• Published 17th May 2012
  • 4,758 Views, 230 Comments

R.3.A.R. - Wand3r3r3



The Cutie Mark Crusaders form a not-so-secret swat team devoted to battling an unknown attack.

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(R)Interval-01_TRANSLATION (prologue)

R.3.A.R.


{----- [[[[[-Interval-01_TRANSLATION-]]]]] -----}

“Okay, Crusaders! We need to come up with a new plan!” A heavy slam was heard against the table, the sound reverberating throughout the treehouse: the orange Pegasus filly stated the obvious . . . Again. Complete silence reigned afterwards, but for only a few seconds, as her two friends thought for that moment, however brief it was.

“Cutie Mark, uhm. . ." A curly-haired filly hesitated. "Uhm, pole dancers?” No matter how excruciatingly awful the idea was, she was certain that her idea would have her friends grinning with confidence. "Pole dancing! Yeah, yeah! Why don't we try that one out?!" While the peppy, squeak toy of a filly seemed insanely confident in her idea, the other two fillies were both confused, and a little disgusted, finding her proposal.

Why would bring that up? I thought we wouldn't ever mention that again. . .”

"Heh, yeah. Besides, we tried that out already. And you even tried it out even more than us!"

There was only a minor, collective fit of laughter, but it was short-lived, as two out of the three of them were being purely fallacious:

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo, the leader of their locally-renowned group; ‘The Cutie Mark Crusaders’ had spent endless days—full weeks, even—formulating ideas and clever hypotheses, and hard. They literally spent their days either in their clubhouse up in the trees, or out in the open, putting their forged-in-fire theories to the test.

Their clubhouse—earning the simple nickname 'the place' by the aging fillies—was no longer bound to the ground as it once was before. The 'young mares', as they preferred to be called, had learned how to seclude their weighty 'hideout' in the greenery of the trees, or whatever pigment the leaves took, if any; the weather was taking on early signs of winter, and there were much fewer leaves than normal. And even if everypony knew that their 'hideout' was in fact the opposite of a 'hideout', it was still 'kickass' to 'hide' up in the 'shelter'.

Their goal was simple . . . Except it wasn't. They vowed that, within the month they re-formed their group, they would find out what each of their special talents were, or at the very least, one of theirs. Scootaloo herself was the most adamant and pushy of the three of them, shoving aside any signs of what she personally thought would be negativity and despair, and replacing them with tough, choice words of encouragement, strewn together in a surprisingly cohesive sentence or two. She knew that there was always something out there to try; she knew that they had to do always be doing something. Their reputation was on the line at all times.

See, whenever anypony needed any kind of help, they would be called to the scene They held themselves to that personal standard every day, and they really did mean 'any' kind of help. They highly preferred helping those few bare-flanked members of their graduating class discover their own special talent, but most of them left before the group was re-formed. And over time, being a socially favorable 'friend' to their community lightened their toughened hearts, and became just another service they were proud to employ.

But, over three whole weeks of near nonstop energy-burning activities, their inspiration began to weaken and fade. Their often stumbled-upon ideas and more frequent calls for help had finally gotten to wearing them down, and that's really saying something—coming from a group whose original motto was going to be 'We'll blow you away. . .better than anypony else!!' Though, in their defense, it was Sweetie Belle who originally came up with that one.

However, even the dirty-minded mare grew tired as she kept pursuing her not-so-hidden hidden interest of dancing around a pole. . .of all possible things, and even those many, many ideas filthier than that. But hey, she was convinced that it was in her best interest to keep at it; that she just might need a little bit more practice and 'flair' each time. Well, that time had turned into bit of a nuisance, and her fellow Crusaders had agreed, that from that moment on, to just accept her way of thinking, and simply move on.

“You know," Sweetie thought, out loud. "Maybe I just have to make somepony fall head over hooves for me, maybe then I’ll get my Cutie Mark!” She squealed excitedly. "You know, actual love stuff!"

“But ‘Se2’. . .You know you're makin’ us look bad when ya do that. And everyone knows you’re a part of our group.”

Apple Bloom used Sweetie’s nickname, and that meant she was being serious in her complaint, despite not seeming forceful at all. Both the unicorn and the pegasus had a nickname that correlated with two of the same letters in their name repeating in two separate instances. The names were originally devised when they all imagined a time where they would need to use them during undercover missions and the like—anything that would have been considered 'totally awesome', and required them to be super sneaky.

“Well, there probably are a lot more possibilities in the same field. . .” Sweetie continued, pondering her thoughts vocally.

Scootaloo spoke up this time, as she came leaning forward in a swivelling chair. "So hey, you're implying that you're gonna whore yourself out, huh?"

"Well hey, whatever it takes. Scoots! I'm willing to make the sacrifices for us."

"So. . .you're willing to take all the blows, per se?"

"Either that, or I'll sure as heck give all the blows!"

Scootaloo suddenly leaned her back into her chair, muffling a fit of laughter underneath her hoof as she swivelled the back of the chair to the group.

Apple Bloom, however, had a blank mind upon listening to them conclude their little chat. She rarely ever joined a conversation that openly warranted sexual jokes and innuendos; all she really ever listened for was her name. And even then, she wasn't too keen on responding, because she knew that she'd be dragged into a question she couldn't—or didn't want to—answer, or a statement she couldn't—or didn't want to—understand. She just wasn't a very big fan of the subject; she always found ways to keep herself busy otherwise.

"You guys are driving me nuts," Scootaloo joked. "Jeezums."

“Hehe. . ."

Apple Bloom knew the sound of that giggle, for sure; "Welp, she's up and running now."

"Going, going, gone. Only she never really needs to gothere."

"Oh my. . . !" Sweetie continued giggling, seemingly without the need to take any air in.

"Yep, she's that fast, hun."



Over the years, Sweetie Belle and her entire demeanor had changed drastically. She was no longer the sweet, innocent Unicorn she was before; the one that dreamed of being a fabulous fashion designer like her older sister. Once Fluttershy gave the group a minor biology lesson about baby fillies and baby colts, and where they came from, and how they were made, she was the only one out of the three who was completely fascinated with the disgusting truth.

Sweetie Belle had grown to accept that truth, but now, not an hour goes by when she isn't. . .sexually stable, with correlating thoughts never to be tame again. To say the very, very least.


“I’m gonna drive these nuts in your face, Scootaloo,” the lewd Unicorn taunted

“Guys! Stop it! Everypony can hear us. . .” Apple Bloom really wasn't a fan of the topic. Not a bit. Though, it would have been easier to tolerate if Sweetie wasn't shouting out for the whole town to hear.

Scootaloo responded, but she sided with Sweetie's call, and not with Apple Bloom's “Well, maybe. . .maybe after we get those marks on our asses, then maybe I'll give you some more marks on yours.”

“Guy, come on. . . !" Apple Bloom cried out to them. She would never get in between those two when they had entered a conflict, because, again she would be dragged into it. Even though Apple Bloom's trains of thought changed after hearing the same story that Sweetie had, she didn't focus on the topic at all—unlike Sweetie.



After the incident—the one that her and Sweetie Belle called the 'terrible truth', though their opinions varied—Apple Bloom dove into topic in secrecy. She adopted Twilight Sparkle, their Unicorn neighbor with unmatched magical talent, as her 'part-time' big sister and mentor, after her own blood sister Applejack suddenly disappeared one day. Apple Bloom was certain, though, that she would be back, and that her reasoning was urgent. She had taken abrupt leaves before, especially with her being a sixth of the world's global defense.

On occasion, she asked Twilight if she could spend a few nights at her place, though it soon became a constant routine. The mare would almost always oblige, as she was quite honored to have someone like Apple Bloom to be another one of her 'big helpers'. Spike, the little dragon who lived with her, insisted on the use of the term 'big helper', as being a 'little' one was both demeaning and embarrassing, and he was one of the only two reasons Apple Bloom really wanted to spend time with him and the Unicorn; both correlating to the fact that she had a crush on him.

Her primary, ulterior motive for her time spent their place was to sneak down to the library portion of their home at night, sit her butt down, and read her fair share—and more—about the forbidden laws of sex and reproduction. She never exerted her secret interest in the subject until night fell, and they were both asleep. Twilight told her that the library was open to her at all times, but she obviously felt the need to be sneaky because of what knowledge she was after.

Eventually, she would put all that knowledge to very good use. Eventually, she would have Spike.


“What?!” Sweetie squealed, in a manner that made her sound offended. “You mean it??” She wasn't.

“Yeah, I’d tap that ass again after all this time we've been together.”

Apple Bloom piped up, instead of doing so in her head. "Wait, again?"

“Hey!! Maybe we can get 'AB' in it, too!”

Apple Bloom whimpered—she spoke up during the conversation, and now Sweetie Belle was after her like a shark.

“Uhmm. Se2. I don’t do three ways.”

"Have you ever triiiiiied a three-way sex party?" She was a total savage.

"Well, I'd definitely be part of it if there were penises involved, but I don't think it'd be very fun with two other pussies, not that I'm calling you guys pussies, but-"

"But we have them is what you mean," Sweetie interrupted. "Well, you know Ihave one."

"Yes, sweetie, I know you have one."

"But what about heeeeerrrrrr?" She nodded toward Apple Bloom, who looked Scootaloo dead in the eyes, across their distance.

"Sweetie, she doesn't really care for this kind of stuff, and hey AB," she called to her. "we appreciate that you put up with our crap, don't we, Sweetums?"

“Then I’m stumped. Stumped, I say!”

"But yeah, AB, if you were off your guard now, you'd better sleep under all the covers you have. I can't keep her away forever."

Apple Bloom blushed just a tiny bit. "Heh . . . I appreciate it, So."



Regardless of the comfort she was given, Apple Bloom didn't want the rest of the town to hear any more of Sweetie's perverted rants than they already have, hearing them go on long enough. She proceeded to gently shove the windows down into their slots within the sils, but she hesitated to do so: there was a stallion standing outside; she recognized him as mister Carrot Cake from the nearby bakery, as both the colors of his hair and his fur resembled that of the seasonal treat. He looked up at her, and from the distance between them, she assumed that he gave her a quizzical sort of look, mixed in with a hint of concern plastered all over his face.

She now decided to thoroughly scan the area outside, and immediately upon doing so, she saw another adult, approaching mister Cake. It was none other than his wife, misses Cup Cake. With her pastel-blue coat, and a mane that whipped itself upon her head, it was rather difficult not to notice her. Apple Bloom began to wonder why they were here, with plenty of concern of her own. She tried to call her friends to her side, but to no avail could she manage: the two were still at war with their differing opinions on a multitude of lewd topics, and Scootaloo was the one 'on top'.



Scootaloo seemed to disregard the apparent traumatization that her friends had gone through—that is to say, she was also passive about it, like Apple Bloom was, but also much more tame than Sweetie Belle. She thought it was interesting, and that she would passively pursue an interest that wouldn't cause a figurative kink—or a literal one—in her relationship with her friends. Her exact opinion, on sex and the like, was made out to be. . .the use of her body and lust to get what she wanted. From manipulating colts with her words to coming close to having to actually use her body, she found the thrill of it to be very pleasurable.

But even more pleasurable than all that was when she discovered how to. . .manipulate her own body, all on her own. There was one day, just before the name 'Cutie Mark Crusaders' was coined and used once more, where she went missing for an entire day. She had kept Sweetie Belle as a fairly close friend during that time, but her and Apple Bloom eventually grew apart for reasons not her own.

Nevertheless, Scootaloo kept using the country filly's clubhouse as her home, every now and then. She had nowhere else to go, honestly, but she felt safe there—safe and hidden enough for her to try something she'd kept in her mind for a while: masturbation. She went into expecting ease, but that just wasn't the case for her. But after a while, Sweetie Belle, being as spontaneous as the flirty comments she'd share with her friend, showed up and left Scootaloo breathless.

She wasn't sure why, but fear consumed her, but Sweetie just . . . Well, she did what she, in her controversial mindset, thought was appropriate. All in all, that night was a 'magical' experience for those two young fillies. . .

However, unlike the Unicorn, Scootaloo didn't obsess over the experience. Sure, she thought it was the most awesome evening in her life, but she chose not to talk about it at all after that. It was their little secret, but if other ponies were to find out, she wouldn't care all that much, as it'd make her more 'mature and experienced'.


Utterly frustrated, Apple Bloom resisted the urge to swear. Considering her nature, she almost never did, but sometimes, one would slip out. She continued to try and snap her friends out of their blind conversation, and she actually did so when she decided to scream at the top of her lungs, syllable by syllable. But first, she gently closed the window, as she had intended to do earlier—

“Can. You! Please!! Listen!!" Whenever she screamed like that, she drew their attention in an instant, freezing them in place. Scootaloo was pinned to the wall, and Sweetie Belle had her hooves on her shoulders. They both knew Apple Bloom was being dead serious, and they honestly freaked; they let go of each other and started walking toward her, apologizing in their own unique way. And in herown unique way, she was technically the leader of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, but she was too quiet and passive to take the kind of 'charge' that Scootaloo recommended she did.

“Apple Bloom?” She heard the raspy, masculine voice of mister Cake call to her, at which point she had turned her attention to him, opening the window back up and making her own apology:

"Heh. . .sorry ya had to bear witness to that."

"Uhm," A slur of uncertainty was all that escaped his mouth. As his wife met his side, he began to come closer to the tree's base, making Apple Bloom. "AppleBloom?"

“Yeah?” She leaned her neck to look down at the adult from her height. “What’s up?” As the stallion hesitated to respond, Scootaloo interjected:

“You are, doofus.” She violently rubbed her hoof over Apple Bloom’s head, roughing up her mane's appearance. "Who're you talking to over here?" They looked down the window as a pair this time, but they did not see mister Cake anywhere.

"Wait, but he was just here. Wasn't he?"

AppleBloom. . .

The filly heard her name, and it sounded like it was totally muffled through the building's walls. At that moment, she was certain that her head felt heavy, in some way. She quickly deduced that it was recovery from her screaming and dismissed it. "They're probably out the other window," she said as she headed toward the other end of the clubhouse.

Just as she thought, she saw the couple walking away as she opened the other window, looking down at them. “Come down here, please. . ." Misses Cake beckoned to her once more.

Scootaloo's impatience peaked before AppleBloom's did, leading her to head toward the clubhouse door, with the dead intent to greet the Cakes'—nicely, of course. Sweetie Belle agreed to come along, too, as those those two were almost inseparable, but the only way she was going to follow her was with her hooves wrapped around Scootaloo's legs. It slowed them down considerably, but the Cakes' weren't going anywhere.

Apple Bloom felt a strange need to take her time and survey the situation further. Even now, she wasn't going to disobey orders from adults, but still, their demeanor left her rather phased. She saw her friends heading down the ramp that led to the ground, where she saw Scootaloo apologizing to them for Sweetie's behavior. It was then she decided to head outside herself, where quiet conversations became audible.




When her hooves touched the grass, it immediately grew quiet again, but mister cake broke the silence when his gaze met hers, with tears in his eyes. “Apple Bloom,” he repeated her name once more, before his wife interjected. Mister Cake started to cry again. Apple Bloom's friends each looked at the mare.

All three of the fillies asked the couple, in unison; "What's up?"

“Apple Bloom must be coming along with us now,” she told them, with all but cheerful hints in her voice. She then looked at her once again “We’ll tell you on the way. We’re going to the park, but not to play. . ."


"Not to play," Mr. Cake repeated. "No . . . Not to play." From the look in his eyes, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. His face looked rather ragged making him seem generally worn out.



Scootaloo finally broke free from Sweetie Belle's tight, constricting grasp. She took her to the side. “AppleBloom," she asked. "What’s going on? Did you do something. . .or something?”

“Ah, . . . I don't know.” She refused to waste any more time and just decided to join the Cakes' side. "I guess I'll see you later, guys." She developed a somber tone of her own. She was soon guided away by the adult mare, who stayed silent as she comforted her husband as he continued to linger in sadness. Her friends just watched as she walked away with the adults, and she looked back at them, too. They didn't know whether they should be concerned or scared, or anything of the sort. Even Sweetie Belle put on a serious face upon seeing the dire question in AppleBloom’s face, as she gave them one final glance before she disappeared from sight.



But clearly, something serious was happening if Scootaloo, the group's 'fearless' leader, received a bone paralyzing chill in her wings, during the whole ordeal. It just seemed so. . .odd and unnatural.

Something. . .deathly serious.