• Published 29th Jan 2014
  • 3,270 Views, 344 Comments

Colts - Guy_Incognito



High times. Low lives. It's Button Mash's birthday and his two best friends decide to take the helpless and repressed shut-in out for a night of beers, girls, hedonism and debauchery. Nothing could go wrong.

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The Plan


The Plan.


Staring at himself in the mirror, Rumble was absolutely certain that he couldn’t look any better if he tried. His face was thin and sharp, and there was just the right amount of gel in his mane. Not so much as a single loose strand stood out from the rest; they all filed neatly in line and offered no sacrifice to the deadly hinderance known as ‘parting’.

Just below the mirror and to the left of the cracked porcelain sink, was a small bottle of Hoity Toity’s cologne ‘Perfection’.

He wasn’t normally a colt who would seek out the aid of faux-pheromones in a bottle, but tonight was special, so he unscrewed the lid, spilled no more than what would be subtle enough not to sting nostrils onto his hooves and slapped himself in the cheeks, under his pits, his throat and then — in a moment of privacy he hoped stayed between him and a mare later that night — around his crotch.

He stared at himself again and grinned.

“Rock ‘N’ Roll.”

His reflection grinned back at him and then winked.

Tonight was going to be mental. A classic affirmation of all the things right, good and proper about youth. The shackles of any and all forms of oppression were going to be thrown off. Tonight was about having fun, and Rumble was a pony who knew a lot about that.

***

Rumble stepped out of the bathroom, jolted down the hallway past his bedroom and Thunderlane’s. Theirs was a flop house, a revolving door for all the vagrants, vagabonds and wasted thrill seekers in Ponyville who wanted to seek shelter from the cold, hard realities of life in Equestria.

That was home; a two story, three bedroom blend of carved mahogany, drywall and plaster. It stood proudly on the same street as many of Ponyville’s prominent members of society — Fluttershy’s cottage was three doors down, on the opposite side. Beside it, Lyra and Bon Bon’s shared home — and was lived in by Thunderlane, Rumble, Brolly and Cloudkicker, with an open invitation for a spot on the couch, floor, kitchen or, if need be, the stairwell to anyone who called themselves a 'friend' of the four ponies.

Once Rumble reached the staircase to the main floor, he pushed off the ground with his legs and cleared twenty one steps in one lavish leap. His hooves touched down against the purple carpet of the the main floor and the vibrations from his contact with earth shook the house.

There was muffled laughter and muted cheering coming from the living room. Curiously, Rumble peeked his head around the corner to see who, or what, was the cause. When his head rounded the corner, an empty beer can struck him in the centre of his flat forehead.

Thunderlane was home.

Rumble wiped his brother’s backwash off of his forehead with the back of his left hoof, then glared at the ponies sitting in his living room. There were four of them; two stallions, two mares. All pegasi. Brolly — a thick necked, round chested stallion with a bone white coat, brown mane and hard eyes — sat on the black faux-leather couch with his his leg wrapped tightly around Flitter’s waist. In the puke green recliner opposite the couch was Rumble's brother — Thunderlane. Perched neatly on his lap, sipping beer out of a silver can, was Cloud Kicker.

Between the couch and the recliner was a coffee table, and on it was a case of a case of Lo-Brau beer — minus one crushed can that had been turned into the projectile that struck Rumble’s forehead — and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts and and burned out roaches. The lights in the room were dim, and somepony had taped two giant beach towels over the plexiglass windows. The air smelt foul and rotten. Cigarette smoke mixed with the stench of stale beer and fast food to create a heinous aroma that would etch itself in the couches and floor for months to come.

Rumble liked it.

“Hey, Rumble,” Thunderlane said, stealing the pegasus's attention. “You got time for a beer?”.

Rumble touched his mane once more to make sure that the neither the can — nor the traces of beer left behind by it — hadn’t done damage to his flow. It felt right, the shape was centered and no strands stood out. He relaxed a bit, grinned at his brother and flopped onto the couch beside Flitter.

“I guess I have time for one,” he said. “I'm supposed to meet Shady outside, and-”

“He can wait,” said Brolly, cutting him off. “Grab a beer.”

It was less a few words of friendly advice and more of a demand. Frowning, Rumble leaned back in the seat. From the corner of his eye he watched as Flitter too frowned, then leaned forwards and grabbed a beer from the case on coffee table. She turned to him and smiled.

“Here you go, Rumble.”

When she reached over to pass it to him, her leg brushed against the fur on his chest. She dropped the beer in his lap, then pulled her hoof back across his chest. Slowly. Her hoof brushed over his pectoral muscles and, instinctively, he flexed his chest. Flitter giggled, and then the faintest trace of a smile creased across his black lips.

Brolly's ears twitched when he heard his girlfriend's laugh, and then, he leaned his muzzle forward and kissed Flitter on the throat. She gave a playful laugh and threw her head back. Brolly's pink tongue made it's way from his mouth and ran over the fur on her neck. Flitter giggled and laughed, but Rumble could tell it wasn’t real. When he finished, Brolly pulled off of Flitter's throat — leaving behind a wet mark where he'd assaulted her with his tongue and lips — and stared at Rumble the hardest look he could manage.

Rumble just rolled his eyes

Flitter didn’t love Brolly.

Flitter didn’t do love (her words.)

The colt who could pick out a proper bouquet of daffodils (her favorites), slap the right kinds of cologne onto all of the sweet spots, afford to pay for both halves of a dinner at The Peasant Cookery or Industrial Chop, and knew which kind of chocolates she liked (those little coconut rum balls from Bon Bon’s shop) could get with Flitter. She went through stallions as quickly as Button Mash went through hoof lotion and boxes of double-ply tissues.

Once at a house party less than a year and a half ago, Flitter threw him into a bathroom and stole his innocence on the porcelain tiled floor. Despite how drunk he, and she, had been, Rumble remembered that night vividly. He remembered how she'd kissed him with an open mouth and a roaming tongue. How she'd told him that he was too adorable for her not to do it. How she'd spent twenty minutes after it was over talking about how much she wished he was older so that they could 'actually' date. She was still with Brolly then and Rumble couldn’t have cared less. Flitter was gorgeous, Brolly was an idiot. What they had together wasn’t ever going to see an altar or have them exchanging vows. Rumble regularly thanked the powers above for this.

Licking his dry and cracked lips, Rumble replayed that night in his head.

“How’s school, Rumble?” Cloudkicker asked.

She shifted her weight on Thunderlane’s lap, grinding her bottom against his pelvis and then smiled at Rumble. Her smile was less playful and flirty than Flitter's, and more straight forward.

Of all the girls that Thunderlane had brought home since he’d discovered the function of the organ between his legs, Cloud Kicker was by and far his favorite. It wasn’t just because she was hot, or that when she was drunk she flirted with him; it was something else. Something about her smile, and her voice, and the way she flicked her mane back with her hoof when she was excited.

There was something about Cloud Kicker that Rumble liked more than any other girl he’d met before. It didn’t make him want to screw her, or even get physical with her, he just liked to spend time in her company.

“School’s alright, I guess,” he said, “My english teacher’s got a huge stick up his ass, though. He gave me detention for calling Chowder a ‘Porkchop’ again. I’m supposed to write a stupid fifteen hundred word essay on why it’s wrong to ‘hurt feelings’. It’s lame.”

“Which one’s Chowder?” Brolly asked.

“Just this tubby little pony I sit beside in class who hasn’t learned how to work the knobs on his shower yet.” said Rumble. “The guy’s got ‘loser’ written all over him; I mean, he wore a fez to school once in third grade. Not ironically.”

Brolly laughed.

Rumble opened the can in his hooves and sucked the froth off of the lid. He swallowed two long gulps, set the can down on the coffee table and kicked back in his seat.

“You’re gonna end up like your brother if you don’t learn to behave yourself, Rumble,” Cloud Kicker said, scooting herself off of Thunderlane’s lap, “And the last thing this town needs is another uneducated hedonist waving his dick around like he's Celestia's gift to mares...”

She turned and shot Thunderlane a playful smirk, her eyes sunken and a wry-grin dancing up her left cheek. Revolted as he wasn't, Thunderlane just snorted a laugh, wound his left hoof backwards and slapped her on the right ass cheek with it. Cloud Kicker yelped and shot into the air.

“Oh, that’s really funny, ‘Kicker.” Thunderlane said once she'd landed on the ground, “If you don’t stop complaining I’ll have to find a fun way to keep that mouth of yours full.”

Brolly laughed loud enough that the vibrations shook the walls. A picture of Rumble and Thunderlane with their grandparents, wearing suits and not smiling, shook and a cracked vase wobbled on the shelf behind the couch.

“Wow, Thunderlane.” Cloud Kicker sighed, “Could you try and not act like such an asshole in front of your little brother?”

“I think he can handle it,” Thunderlane turned to Rumble, “You’re not offended are you, Rumble?”

Rumble shook his head and had another sip of beer.

“See, my brother’s got sack.”

Her eyes fell on Rumble. She opened her mouth, and it looked like she was about to say something, but no words came out. Instead, a pained and pitiful sigh escaped from her lips and she sagged her head.

Rumble swallowed, then took a longer sip of beer.

Thunderlane leaned back in the recliner and crossed his legs behind his head.

“Wanna make me a sandwich while you’re up?”

Brolly belted out a jovial chuckle, a muted laugh that rumbled from deep in his chest and bounced off the walls in the room. Cloud Kicker’s eyes narrowed into slits and her eyebrows sunk on down her forehead.

“Would it helped if I said ‘I love you’?” said Thunderlane, grinning a mouth full of white teeth at her.

“Asshole!”

Cloud Kicker stomped her way out of the room, and Rumble whipped his body backwards to watch her leave. She stopped just before the doorway to the kitchen, turned to him and he could see the hurt in her eyes. He tried to offer and apology for his brother's behavior through the soft smile he gave her, but she would have none of it. She turned into the kitchen without so much as a sigh or a whimper.

Rumble turned back to Thunderlane, who was still grinning.

“Mares...” he sighed, staring at Brolly.

“Yeah,” Brolly said, rubbing Flitter’s back with his left hoof, “What are you gonna do?”

“She wants me to take her to that new place, The Gilded Oat, right? Like my name is Filthy Rich or something?” Thunderlane said, “Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, but if you were Filthy Rich you’d be hooked up with a stuck up, rich bitch like Lady Rarity.”

“She does have a nice ass, though”

“Yeah.” Brolly nodded, “She’s a total hardbody.”

Rumble stared at Flitter now. She’d dropped her head and was having trouble bringing the smile back to her face. Empathetic as he was, Rumble stopped himself from making any form of movement to help ease her tension.

Living under the same roof as Brolly, and having strong feelings for the well being of the girl he used and abused so tastelessly made it hard for Rumble to keep her in good spirits without Brolly knowing it. He prodded her leg with the tip of his right hoof, and when she turned to him, he offered a goofy grin. He wiggled his eyebrows, aimed his hoof at Brolly and mouthed curses about the pegasus.

Flitter giggled.

Brolly sat beside them, none the wiser.

“I can’t believe Filthy Rich is hitting that!” said Brolly, “He’s gotta be, what; fifty? Sixty? And, shit, he’s got a kid too!”

“Yeah, Diamond Tiara,” said Rumble “I used to sit next to her in Algebra. She’s kind of a bitch.”

“Figures,” said Thunderlane.

“I’ve seen her around,” Brolly said. “She’s pretty cute for her age.”

“Pedo.”

The word slipped out of his mouth before he realized it, but no pony seemed to notice. If they did hear him, Brolly and Thunderlane didn’t seem to either find offense, or understand the definition behind the word. This was both relieving, and worrying to Rumble.

“I really don’t think it’s Filthy’s lack of looks that Rarity’s after.” Thunderlane explained, “I’d bet you a six pack that she’s just giving him the ride for as long as it takes for her to get written into his will.” he grinned, “She’s got ‘gold digger’ written all over her.”

Brolly nodded.

Rumble remembered the time that Sweetie Belle had lent him her quill and ink to scribble down notes in algebra. How she could come from the same bloodline that had created a mare like Rarity seemed like a cosmic injustice. Sweetie Belle was sweet. Rarity was something else, entirely. He never had any proper interactions with her, all he knew about her were the rumors, or what Thunderlane, Brolly, Cloud Kicker or Flitter said about her. They never had anything nice to say.

“I’d still hit it.” Brolly said, laughing. “I bet she’s nice and tight.”

“Yeah,” said Thunderlane. “You’re preachin’ to the choir, Brolly.”

Ponyville was a small town where gossip reigned as the leading source of information. According to the grape vine, somepony (who exactly, no one could say for sure) had caught Mr. Filthy Rich (the well known widower) and Ms. Rarity (who’d been shamed out of Manehattan) dining together at The Gilded Oat. The rumors came mostly from the mouths of bored housewives waiting in checkout lines at S-Mart, still, no one doubted their claims. Many ponies had seen the two together in recent weeks and so, as far as the rumor mill went in Ponyville, that also meant they were dating.

None of it surprised Rumble. Ponies liked to talk about what they didn’t know. The only thing that was mildly curious was this time the rumor hadn’t come from the mouth of Diamond Tiara, as so many others did.

Flitter, who had been sitting silently while her boyfriend, and his best friend talked trash about Filthy Rich and lusted over Rarity, sighed to herself while they continued to breath life into rumors of the two dating. She turned to Rumble and smiled softly at him.

He smiled back at her.

“So, Rumble,” she said, leaning towards him, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing crazy,” he said, “It’s Button Mash’s birthday today, so Shady and I are gonna drag the dork out of his masturbation station and take him out for a few drinks. Maybe see if there’s a house party somewhere we can crash?”

“Oh, fun, fun.” Flitter said and clapped her hooves together. “No wonder you’re all dolled up.”

Thunderlane turned his head towards the two and grinned. “Yeah, Rumble. Usually you look like dog shit when you get out of bed.” he said, “Looks like someone put on his big boy pants this morning.”

Brolly snorted so hard that beer came dripping out of his nose. Rumble felt his cheeks growing flush. He shook the look of embarrassment off of his face, took another sip from the can and threw a dirty look at Thunderlane.

“Blow me.”

Thunderlane leaned back in the chair and kicked his lower legs on the leg rest. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Rumble.” He said, leaning his head into the headrest so that it parted his mohawk, “Why don’t you just ask your little butt buddy, Shady?”

“You guys suck.” Rumble groaned, “There’s nothing wrong with Shady.”

“Uh, yeah there is, Rumble.” said Brolly. “He’s a fag.”

Rumble said nothing, frowned then took another sip of beer.

“I think Shady Daze is sweet.” said Flitter. “Who cares if he’s gay?”

Brolly glared at Flitter long and hard. She tried to smile, but it fell into a frown and then the room fell into silence. When Rumble realized no one else would speak in Shady’s defense, he finished his beer, crushed the can in his hooves and threw it onto the coffee table. It slid off the table and hit the ground.

No one in the room made a move to clean the mess.

“Well, listen, this has been fun and all,” Rumble said, shooting up from the couch, ”But I’ve got a lot of debauchery to get into.”

Thunderlane and Brolly nodded their heads. Flitter bat her eyes at him. “Have fun, Rumble." she said, "And, oh, don’t forget to tell Button Mash we say happy birthday?”

Rumble turned his head back towards her and winked. She winked back, reached for a beer and tossed it to him. “For the road.”

“Thanks.”

He cracked the beer open and swallowed back as much as he could before he made it to the front door. To the left was the door to the walk in closet. Rumble tore it open. The room was the second smallest in the house and a total mess. Nothing was hung on hangers. Instead, everything found a place hanging off of shelves or in piles on the floor. There were jackets on top of windbreakers and winter coats piled over top of them. He waded through the mess, careful not to crush anything in any of the pockets and moved closer to the back, until he found the one he was looking for.

Hanging by a sleeve under a pile of cardboard boxes was an apple green track-jacket with solid white stripes running down the sleeves. Rumble slipped it on, pulled it to his waist then pulled the zipper down just enough to show off his pectoral muscles.

There was a mirror in the closet that Rumble found himself fascinated with. He admired the himself; the shape his mane took was flawless and his chest was boastful of the last six months that he and Thunderlane had spent running the length of the gorge together. The muscles in his legs bulged against the fabric of the track-jacket. He flexed.

He looked good.

Great.

Drop dead handsome.

He was a sexy beast.

A weighted object in the right pocket of his coat peaked his curiosity. He reached inside and what he pulled out brought a smile to his face. A clear glass bottle, the size and weight of a cheap book, filled with translucent liquid. The label was scratched off, so Rumble twisted the cap off, brought it to his lips and took a swig to figure out what it was.

Potato vodka; something from one of the ass ends of Equestria (Trottingham, most likely) that was probably brewed in a bathtub and sold out in backdoor deals from moonshiners, to bar owners, to patrons.

But, where had he gotten it from?

The house party six weeks ago? He remembered trading four pressed caps of Candy Dust to someone, for something. Could this have been the end result? A bottle of unlabeled, bathtub brewed vodka? It made sense, and Rumble didn’t want to worry too much about it. He had the vodka now, which was all that really mattered.

Grinning at his reflection, he backed out of the closet, spun the door to his home open and decided to start his day off with a drunken smile.

***

The steps that made up the stoop outside of Rumble and Thunderlane’s home were concrete and cold. Five of them separated the front door from the ground, divided by a set of black metal rails on both sides. Between them, on the fifth step up, sat Shady Daze with an issue of Freak Power in his lap.

Time had been kind to Shady Daze, and it reflected in the ‘I- just-got-out-of-bed-but-still-look-sexy’ look he’d spent long years cultivating. He stood a head taller than most of the ponies in his grade, and was thin, but not lanky or malnourished. He kept his mane long, wild and wavy. Unlike Rumble, Shady Daze didn’t use product in his mane. Shampoo, conditioner and a quick dry with a towel was his rhetoric. Rumble liked to put chemicals in his mane. Shady Daze liked to look au naturel.

There were half a pack of Red Apples in the front pocket of his wool lined jean jacket and Shady fished them out. He shook one loose, bit it by the filter, lit the end and took in a lungful of cancer. When he exhaled he puckered his lips into an ‘O’ and tried to blow smoke clouds. It took half a cigarette for him to realize that he couldn’t. Instead of failing further, he flipped through the comic in his lap.

On the pages, Freak Power kicked Aunt Flow in the face and her exploded into a splash page of blood, skull, brain and gore. The colours were vibrant — deep reds, bright purples and chalky whites — and Shady Daze spent some time staring at them, admiring the art style.

He flipped through a few more pages and took another drag from his cigarette.

Freak Power stood on the rooftop of The Equestrian State building and gave a speech about

‘Truth, Justice and The Equestrian Way’. Shady Daze finished his cigarette, stamped it out on the steps until it was nothing but black ash and crushed orange filter, then flicked the butt over the fence.

Behind him the doorknob spun and the door flew open; Shady Daze turned his head to see Rumble standing in the open doorway.

“Sup, homo?”

Rumble flopped down beside Shady Daze and stared at him for a moment. He cocked his head to the right side, his eyes moved up and down, scanning his face, then a pitiful sigh escaped his lips. “You look like shit, Shady.”

Shady Daze ran his hoof through his mane, sighed then shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I didn’t really get a lot of sleep last night.”

“Aww, poor baby.” Rumble cooed, “Late night drinking merlot and reading Stallion Stuffer Weekly?”

“Something like that.” Shady yawned. “Twist let me stay at her place again and, like, she’s super nice about it — so are her folks — but, I can’t get a good night sleep in a bed that’s not my own, you know?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rumble waved his hooves through the air, “You slept at Twist’s place? Again?”

Shady Daze nodded.

“Dude, this is like, the third time this week she’s let you stay over. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were just using that whole gay thing as a cover up for not wanting to tell anyone you two are back together?”

“Oh, Rumble.” Shady Daze said, sighing, “How many times did your parents drop you on the head when you were a kid?”

Rumble’s wings lifted with a shrug of his shoulders. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and slapped the concrete steps with his hooves.

“My place is just being fumigated.” Shady said, “She’s being a friend.”

“With benefits?”

“Don’t you have any filters?”

“Nah." Rumble said, "Growing up with Thunderlane made me pretty dead to the whole ‘empathy’ thing.”

Shady Daze rolled his eyes.“Yeah, obviously...”

Rumble grinned again, reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of potato vodka. He took a nip, swallowed hard then offered it to Shady. Shady took it from Rumble's clutches and sniffed the open mouth of the bottle. His nostrils scrunched up and his eyes snapped shut. Still, he brought the bottle to his mouth and took a nip for himself, before passing it back to Rumble.

“How come you didn’t just stay here?” Rumble asked, wiping saliva and backwash from his mouth with his left hoof and taking the bottle from Shady with his right. “We’ve got the room?”

“Yeah, right, and wake up to Brolly giving me a blanket party?” Shady’s body tensed. “No thanks, Rumble. I choose life.”

“You make him sound like hate monger, Shady.” Rumble said, “Brolly likes you.”

“Dude, he called me a ‘Fairy’ the last time I saw him.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Shady.” said Rumble. “Brolly’s an okay guy. I mean, yeah, he’s super dense. And, he definitely doesn’t deserve a girl like Flitter, but he’s alright other than that.”

“Whatever.”

“C’mon, Shady.” Rumble nuzzled Shady’s shoulder with his hoof. “Let’s see a smile?”

Shady turned to Rumble, rolled his tongue out of his mouth and blew a raspberry.

“That’s more like it.” cheered Rumble, slapping Shady on the shoulder.

Shady smirked, nudged the hoof off of his shoulder then turned to face Rumble. “So, what’s the plan tonight, anyway?”

Rumble scratched his chin and struck a pose artists would describe as ‘contemplative.’ He murmured a few quiet “Hmm’s” to himself before his face lit up.

“I thought since Button Mash is now legal all across this slab of dirt and pony-shit that we call home, we should celebrate another year of his cheating death with some good old fashioned bar hopping and see if we can find that little dork something to park his pecker in?”

“And he’s okay with this?”

“I couldn’t say for sure,” Rumble shrugged, “I haven’t told him yet.”

“Of course not. That would make way too much sense, right?”

Rumble nodded.

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“I was sort of thinking we could get him drunk enough that girls think he’s being ironic when he talks about his kill-death ratio in Thirst for Blood. Then, we just throw him at something dumb and slutty and hope for the best?”

Shady Daze’s laugh cracked the air like a whip. “Sounds about right. What’s the first stop on our way?”

“Well, we’re doing cake at Button’s. Hence the day drinking,” Rumble said, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking another nip, “Then, we hit The Toad, grab a beer, see who’s all there. If it’s a bust we move on to the next bar, and so on, and so forth. But, I’ll be damned if there’s not a single available mare out on a friday night who won’t go home with a guy like Button Mash.”

“You’re going to have a really hard time selling this to him,” Shady said, “He told me at school today that all he wanted to do was take it easy tonight, you know? Kick back, play some games and have some cake. That sorta thing.”

“Oh, for Luna’s sake!” Rumble shouted, “He’s got the rest of his life to sit in his basement, filling his garbage can with all the sinful waste he makes when he reads Filly Fanny Fun and Moanin’ Mares!”

“Hey, I didn’t say I had a problem with it.”

“Well, good." Rumble said with a grin spreading up his cheeks, "Because, like it or not, we’re taking him out, and I’m not above foalnapping him either.”

Shady Daze chuckled. Rumble cracked his neck until it made the sound of a log snapping in half, and then ran a hoof through his mane. Light from the sun glistened off the grease on his hoof and reflected in his eyes. He leaned his head backwards, shut his eyes tight and spoke.

“How does my mane look?”

It was a question grounded in narcissism and redundancy; for as long as Shady Daze had known Rumble, the pegasus had never worn his mane any different than how it looked now. It was slicked backwards, sharp at the end, soft in the front. The same way it looked every single day of his life going back to the earliest memories Shady Daze had of Rumble.

“It looks fine.” he answered.

Rumble snapped his eyes open and tilted his face to Shady Daze. He was frowning.

“Come on, don’t make this weird,” said Rumble, “Do I look good or not?”

“Yes, Rumble." Shady Daze said, batting his eyes towards him, "You look absolutely darling.”

He spoke in a posh accent mimicking Sweetie Belle’s older sister Rarity, and to accent his point, he ran his hoof across Rumble’s chest and flicked the fur around his right pectoral.

Rumble furrowed his eyebrows further down his head and snarled a mouth full of pearly whites at Shady. “Fuck off, homo!”

Shady Daze grinned and rubbed Rumble’s chest again. He pet the fur around Rumble’s throat softly, until Rumble drew back and swiped Shady’s hoof away from him.

“C’mon, Shady!” he shouted, “Seriously! Don’t be such a-”

“-Fag?”

“Yeah...”

Rumble rolled his tongue over molars. “No offense, Shady,” he said, “But you’re acting super frou-frou right now.”

“Geez, Rumble.” Shady sighed, “Have any unresolved issues with ‘the gays’?”

“Hey!” Rumble snapped, “Just because I don’t want to have guys touching me where my bathing suit covers does not make me a bigot, Shady!”

“No, but it kind of makes you an asshole for saying it like that...”

“Oh, sorry for not being P.C. enough for you, princess." Rumble grunted, "But, I don’t pitch for your team, and I aim to keep it that way.”

“Being gay isn’t a disease, retard.”

“Look, all I’m saying is, I don’t know where your hooves have been..." said Rumble, cocking his jaw to the left, "I mean, okay, tissue... You know, like, skin cells and body fluids? They, like, transfer diseases through contact with skin, and...”

“Just quit while you’re ahead.” said Shady, “You're not going to catch my 'gay', Rumble.”

“I didn’t say that!” Rumble snapped, “I just don’t wanna get some weird homo disease… Not that you have one, just… Well, you never know, and-”

“-Seriously, Rumble?” Shady Daze gawked, cutting Rumble off. “Are you seriously saying this to me right now?”

“What?” Rumble shrieked,

“Nothing,” Shady Daze’s face brightened with an ear-to-ear grin. “It’s just, this is pretty weird to hear coming from the guy who got chlamydia twice from the same girl.”

Rumble swallowed hard and sighed.

“Yeah, well… I was drunk on Vagrant’s Choice, and Flitter came on to me. I’m only Equestrian, Shady!” grunted Rumble, “Besides, how was I supposed to know that Brolly turned her into a fucking petri-dish?”

“Aww cute,” Shady cooed, “Sharing is caring, eh?”

“Shut. Up.” Rumble hissed through gritted teeth. “Like you wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t into the boys?”

“No, I’d still have standards, Rumble.” Shady said, “You know those little things that make you say ‘No’ to girls who have V.D.?”

“Oh, you’re so funny, Shady Daze,” Rumble droned, “At least I’m getting laid. When was the last time you had a poke, huh?”

Shady Daze didn’t really want to answer that question, but found himself doing it anyway.

“Ah, c’mon now, Rumble." Shady said, trying to grin but finding it faltering, "A proper gentlecolt never kisses and tells.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t really want to hear it.” Rumble said, then he stopped, looked at Shady, saw the frown his best friend wore, and spoke again. “I mean… look, I’m totally okay with your, um…”

“Unrestrained lust for stallions?”

“Yeah… that thing,” Rumble’s shoulders popped and his back shook the same way it would if a chill were to run up his spine. He rubbed his neck with his hoof, then put on a smile. “But, tonight is about throwing off the shackles of oppression, getting good and drunk and, hopefully, finding us all something to take home as a consolation prize. Even if that thing happens to be a dude in your case.”

“Thanks,” said Shady “And, look, all I know is that if you’re not careful about who you choose to put ‘Lil Rumble’ in, it’s going to fall off.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk, mom.” said Rumble, “Maybe when you’re done teaching me about the birds and the bees we can go out and get some ice cream, too?”

Shady Daze stared at Rumble and Rumble stared back at him. Time passed and neither pony spoke, until a grin spread up the sides of Shady Daze’s mouth and he started to laugh.

Rumble did the same.

“You’re such a dick,” Shady Daze said, batting his hoof against Rumble’s side.

Rumble punched him back on the shoulder. “You love it!”

More punches were thrown between the two; Rumble hit Shady in the face — hard enough to tilt the colt’s head, but soft enough not to bruise the flesh — and Shady got a sucker punch on the soft flesh around Rumble’s kidney. They laughed and spit half-hearted curses at each other; Rumble was a “Butt-Wipe” Shady decided, and Shady Daze was a “Knob-Gobbler” according to Rumble.

It lasted a few minutes, and by the time they were done, Shady Daze had his upper left leg wrapped around Rumble’s shoulder and was head-butting the colt on the neck. Rumble pressed his hooves into Shady’s chest and pushed the colt away from him. He grabbed both sides of the railing and launched himself down the five step clearing. Grey wings spread outwards and he landed on the ground with the grace and dignity of a common housecat, then he bowed towards Shady Daze.

“Such elegance.” Shady Daze laughed.

“You bet your incredibly loose butthole.” said Rumble, “I’m the real deal, Shady. I’m witty, handsome, charming, suave, sophisticated and, on top of all that, I have something between my legs that all the ladies go nuts for.”

“Let’s not forget how incredibly humble you are,” Shady Daze lolled, pulling himself upright using the railing on his left side.

“Yeah, that too,” Rumble nodded his head and laughed. “Now, let’s get out of here. I’ve spent more than enough time talking about steamy guy-on-guy smut with you. I wanna get going.”

Dust and dirt flew off the ground when Rumble spread his wings. He gave a trio of strong flaps, more dust flew at Shady Daze’s face and then Rumble lifted off the ground. A few more flaps of his wings and he was soaring above Shady Daze, spiraling in circles around him the way a bird of prey would.

“Last one to Button Mash’s buys the first round tonight!”

***

Just outside the door to Button Mash’s humble abode were where Shady Daze and Rumble found themselves. Rumble had knocked and now the two waited patiently for an answer. Both had on their faces their softest smiles and largest pair of eyes that they could manage. Keeping up appearances was important, and Button Mash’s mom had no doubt in her mind her son kept good company. Both Rumble and Shady Daze aimed to keep it that way, especially considering the notion that Rumble was half-drunk from his mid-day brush with potato vodka, and Shady Daze wasn't far behind him.

The door swung open and Ms. Mash stood in the opening. She was certainly something to stare slack jawed at; for a mare with two sons, her body was incredibly tight, fit and youthful. Thinner hips and a well rounded rear end that drew stares wherever she went. She owed a large part of her body to a daily jogging ritual that took her from her door, around town, through the park and then back home. She did this five times a week, both in the morning and at night.

“Hello, Ms. Mash,” Rumble greeted cheerfully, smiling at her, “You look very lovely today.”

“Hello boys,” said Ms. Mash.

Her eyes scanned the forms of the two young stallions before her and her smile grew. She wore an apron (“Respect The Chemistry”) over her chest, which had white powder stains and splotches of yellow batter. The smell that wafted from the entrance was sweet and settling. Baking was underway.

“I can’t get over how tall you two are are these days.” said Ms. Mash, sighing. “I swear, you grow a few inches every time I see you.”

“You better believe it,” Rumble whispered under his breath.

She turned around on her hooves and invited the two inside. Rumble stepped in first and his eyes followed the movement of her rear with each step she took into the house. He nudged Shady, rolled the tongue out of his mouth and licked the air in small clockwise circles.

Shady Daze chuckled quietly

The house was a bungalow and designed with a focus on the kitchen. No room on the first floor was more than six steps from the kitchen and all the hallways were narrow and had pictures of Button Mash, his brother and Ms. Mash hanging on them. Noticeably absent in all the photos was the ex-Mr. Mash.

Ms. Mash stopped just before the door to the basement and rapped her hoof against the door three times.

“Button, Shady and Rumble are here to see you.”

No answer.

She knocked again.

Silence.

“Maybe we should go down and grab him?” Shady suggested.

Rumble nodded.

“If you two could keep him busy for about an hour that would be great?" said Ms. Mash, "I’m just waiting for a cake in the oven.”

“Double chocolate, right?” asked Rumble.

“Yes." she nodded, "Shaped just like ‘Daring Do’. Button was very specific.”

“I’m sure he was.” said Shady Daze.

Rumble chuckled beside him.

“We’ll keep him busy for you, Ms. Mash.” he said.

“Thank you, boys.”

“No problem.” said the two younger ponies in unison.

And then Rumble pried the door open.

Button Mash had moved several times since he was a foal. The latest was into a bungalow with a fully furnished basement. The stairs led on the left to a bedroom room (Button Mash’s) and on the right to an entertainment area that Button Mash had put his personal stamp on; shelves were filled with game cartridges and volumes of comic books graphic novels and mangas. There was a separation between two walls of shelves where a flat screen T.V. stood. There was a faux-leather couch, a fold out futon beside it and a green recliner that all faced the T.V. On the walls were framed posters for video games, movies and comic books.

Button Mash’s basement was a Nirvana for nerds.

Nerdvana.

None of the lamps were on in the room on the right and there were muffled panting noises coming from the door to Button Mash’s room. Rumble led the way with Shady behind him. He pressed his ear against the door, a smile creased his lips and he chuckled.

“No way,” he whispered.

Shady Daze’s eyes crackled with excitement and curiosity. “What?”

“Take a wild guess what he’s doing in there right now?” said Rumble.

“Oh…” Shady sighed and scrunched up his face when realization hit him, “Eww. Can’t you knock or something, dude?”

Rumble did. He beat his hoof against the door and a short second later a voice, panicked, wry and nervous, replied.

“Don’t come in! Don’t open the door! I’m… I’m changing!”

Button Mash’s voice, nasally and high pitched, came in muffled through the door, followed soon after by the sounds of sheets being lifted, tossed, a drawer opening and closing, hooves thumping against the ground and then silence.

Rumble tapped his hoof against the floor. “Hurry up, Button.”

“Just… gimme a minute!”

More thumping from behind the wooden door.

“Three seconds,” Rumble said.

“What!? No!”

“One.”

“Rumble, I’m, like, naked…”

“Ponies don’t normally wear clothes, Button.”

This minor tidbit of information was added by Shady Daze.

“Two.”

“Rumble… wait!”

Before he could even reach ‘three’ Rumble body-checked the door open.

Laying flat on his stomach on a bed with the sheets thrown all around it, was Button Mash. He was sweating, his brown fur matted down around his face, pits and chest. He wore a look of pure and utter shock, staring backwards at Rumble and Shady Daze.

If Rumble was fit, and Shady Daze was thin, Button Mash sat somewhere in-between. He had a natural sort of pudge on his body. Not fat, or thin, just a well rounded ‘averageness’ that complimented all other aspects of him which fit somewhere between ‘Dull’ and ‘Spectacular’. His pumpkin coloured mane had grown longer over the years, so that it fell just above his eyes and covered his ears like a big shaggy mop atop his head.

“Hey guys…” he squeaked, “Just, uh… doing some aerobics.”

Shady Daze and Rumble grinned at him like a pair of timberwolves.

“Hey, what’s this here?” Rumble asked, moving towards the bed.

There was the edged corner of a magazine sticking out from beneath the pillow that Button Mash desperately tried to hide. Rumble bit the magazine by the edge, plucked it out with his teeth and, as he did, a low and anguished groan came from Button Mash’s throat.

The magazine that Rumble dropped onto the floor had a picture of a pale coated mare with a cherry cutie mare winking towards the reader. The words ‘Filly Fanny Fun’ — embroidered and written in Silian Braille lettering — hung above her head and the tagline at the bottom of the magazine read 'Cherry Jubilee shows and tells all about life in small town Dodge Junction'.

Button Mash looked first at Rumble, then at Shady Daze, bowed his head and moaned into the pillow.

“Oh, hey. I read that one.” said Shady, “I thought the interview they did with Hoity Toity was pretty good. Didn’t you?”

Author's Note:

Firstly, I'd like to say a huge amount of thanks to Einhander and Cola_Bubble_Gum for writing 'Royals' and 'Rum Punch' and letting me write something 'canon' to those fics. Also, huge props to Maskedferret, Sentral, Sorren, SpaceCommie and everyone else who helped edit this chapter.

A new chapter is in the works and should be out soon (I hope) otherwise, I hope you enjoyed it?