Chapter 1 (Rewritten)
There's a dark secret on the edge of Ponyville, just off of Mane Street. It's strategically positioned just after the main entrance to town, but it's inconspicuous enough that you'd have to be looking to find it. It's what you might call the underbelly of Ponyville: Soresaddle Street.
To be blunt, this is the street for hookers, druggies, strip clubs, sex shops, and just about anything else you can think of that you wouldn't expect to exist in this seemingly cheery town. Like for example, the establishment I ran. The sign that displayed my establishment's name was in a sultry font, the door had a flashing neon sign that said "Fillies! Fillies! Fillies!", some of the more tame posters for flicks that I've gotten over the years were plastered up all over the windows, and there were at least seventeen "XXX" stickers on the storefront.
Yep, the Mareborough is a porn shop.
Now that I think about it, the atmosphere inside was pretty strange. The back half of the store was lit by a few bare fluorescent tubes, illuminating my four aisles of illicit material with their sickly yellow light, while the front half of the store was lit only by a few candles shaped like cigarette lighters. It was a pretty strange choice of decor, I must admit. The front part of the store used to be lit by tubes, as well, but I couldn't stand the glare of them, so on a whim, I had taken all of the ones over the counter down when I first came to own this place. I had planned on replacing them all, but just before I had started taking them down in the back half, I realized that I didn't have enough money to buy new lights. So, after cursing my stupidity, I went out and bought those candles, and that's what my decor has remained. I should probably get around to changing it, though. I've had more than one customer shuffle nervously out of the store 'cause they thought some crazy occult business was going on. Or at least, that's what the Doctor's told me.
I turned in my chair and reached behind me, grabbing my freshly-opened pack. It contained 12 little sticks of heaven. Well...make that 11.
I cursed under my breath as I fumbled with my lighter. Years of practice hadn't made it any easier to do this with hooves. Unicorn smokers have it so much easier. They can just imagine that their cigarette is on fire, and lo and behold, it is.
I looked at my reflection in the small mirror on the countertop. I stroked a hoof across my gray cheek, and I was easily able to feel the bone underneath. I just naturally didn't really eat much, but that didn't really help my appearance. Suddenly interested in how I look, I stroked a hoof through my black mane, attempting to smooth down the unruly mess. I was dismayed when it almost immediately popped back out to its original state. I sighed, and looked down at my cutie mark, wondering if my special talent was looking sketchy. Triple X's was a bit uncreative, but it did get the message across that this wasn't a guy you wanted your fillies to be around. Which was totally unfair; I'm not at all interested in that fetish.
It was 2 A.M. Almost closing time, and just a little bit past peak hours, though "peak" is an overstatement in any sense of the word, since only around 5 customers came in tonight. I yawned, and decided I'd close up shop early.
I groaned as I lifted myself out of the chair. I then locked the front door, and passed by my new business cards on the way upstairs. "Sly Clop, Owner, Mareborough Adult Entertainment", they read. I now regretted my decision to have my name in the largest type, as I've never been particularly fond of it. What was with Dad? Who names their only son "shady fuck"? Thanks, pops. May you rest in peace.
'I turned off the fluorescent tubes, ceasing their sickly yellow light. I walked upstairs to my excuse for a living space. In it was a simple mattress, which smelt like it hadn't been washed in months (it hadn't), with a low-end computer on a desk on one side, along with a half-broken chair, and a mini-fridge on the other. I realized I had forgotten to use the bathroom before coming upstairs, but I decided I couldn't be bothered with walking down them again. I had gone fairly recently, anyways.
I stubbed out my cigarette in my bedside ashtray, and collapsed into bed. It hadn't been a very exciting day today, but that was normal on the days I didn't go to Hard Cider's "gentlecolt's club". The Doctor and I alternated the late night shift, which means I'd have tomorrow night free to go to the club. Hopefully, it'd make the day less monotonous. I closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
-------------------------------------------------
"Well, I'm sorry that things turned out this way, but I've come here to say...I quit."
Well, that wasn't the wake-up call I was hoping for. I had woken up two minutes ago to the sound of incessant rapping on the shop door, and I was surprised to see when I got down there that it was an excited Doctor Whooves making the racket. I had hoped he had come to do my shift in hopes of earning some extra bits, but he dashed those hopes quickly, adding onto my already grumpy mood.
I scowled at my now-ex-employee. "Whooves, what kind of half-assed idea do you have now?"
"Uh-uh," said Whooves, waving a hoof in the air. "It's not 'Whooves' anymore. It's 'Love Doctor'."
Oh boy, here we go again. I had to restrain myself from facehoofing. For as long as I've known him, The Doctor's had this crazy idea that he's one of the most respected playcolts in the entire town. But really, he's just one of those ponies who gets good at talking to mares when he's drunk. It's gotten him with a mare or two, but he always finds it hard to remember how he made that happen the morning after.
I sighed. "Okay, 'Love Doctor', what does this have to do with you quitting?"
"It has everything to do with me quitting!" said Whooves, throwing his hooves in the air. "Celestia gave me a gift when I came to this world. And that gift is these magic hooves." He held them up in front of his face, and a strange grin began to stretch from ear to ear, as if his hooves were diamonds or something.
I groaned. "What are you talking about, Whooves? And stop doing that, you look like a pedo."
He ignored me. "I'm serious about quitting, Sly. These hooves have made many a mare beg for more. And now, it's time to put that skill to use. 'The Love Doctor's Love Counseling for Stallions'. I can see it now." His creepiness level rose even higher as he acquired a far-away look in his eyes.
If I was a more rowdy stallion, I'd punch that smug look clean off his face. But I prefer to be a stallion of words, instead. If you work them well, they sting harder than any punch. "So, let me get this straight; you're going to make ponies pay you just to have you talk about how to pleasure a filly?"
Whooves broke from his strange pose. "That's right," he said happily. I rolled my eyes. "Just think of how many lonely stallions there are in this town!"
I turned my eyes from Whooves. The Doctor had definitely gone off the deep end now, considering you just have to walk outside to see that mares outnumber us stallions by at least five to one. His plan made about as much sense as the hydra-on-hydra DVD I was inadvertently looking at. It sometimes amazes even me what's stocked in the "obscure fetishes" section.
I turned my head back to Whooves, and looked him in the eye. A little part of me had hoped this was all a joke, but with that hopeful look in his eyes, I saw that he was very sincere. I sighed. "Okay, Whooves, if you think this is a good idea, I have no way to stop you. I'm not your boss anymore."
"Thanks, Sly!" said Whooves, his ears happily perking up. "Now, uh, about this final week's pay..."
"Yeah, yeah, here it is..." I said as I unlocked the drawer in the desk with its key. That's another thing that unicorns can do so much more easily. Hard to hold onto the key with your teeth and get the drawer open at the same time. You can't even really see what you're doing.
I gave the Doctor his last paycheck. He grabbed it in his teeth and merrily hopped towards the doorway, a blissful smile on his face.
"Wish me luck!" he yelled as he opened the door.
"Huh?" I said. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Good luck..." The Doctor closed the door behind him, and trotted away. "...You'll need it."
Well, that was a great start to the day.
--------------------------------------------------------
9 PM. Nine hours on the shift. If the Doctor hadn't quit, he would've relieved me two hours ago. I had gotten a few customers today, mostly nervous stallions. Big Mac had come round to pick up the latest DVD in the Cock-A-Doodledoo series. He's as giddy as a schoolfilly when the newest one of those comes out. Kinda scary to see a guy as big as him skip out the door. It's just porn.
Snips and Snails had also tried to trick me again, but being the incompetent fools they are, they once again didn't succeed. Don't they know the "trenchcoat-mustache-stand-on-one-another's-shoulders" trick is the oldest in the book? Even my pops faced that one frequently.
I'd gone through more than half of the pack of Mareboro cigarettes I started on last night. I realized I couldn't mind the store for another five and a half hours, and my mind made up the pretty terrible excuse that the thin haze of cigarette smoke in the air would somehow suffocate me if I didn't get out of here. I somehow managed to convince myself that this was true, and decided that even though it would just hurt business further, I should go somewhere else. Like, the Knife and Apple!
I grabbed the keys, locked the door, and trotted across the street to the place. It was pretty inconspicuous from the outside, just a little wooden sign flapping in the warm summer wind, the logo of a knife laying beside an apple painted in the centre. The bar-(and-brothel)'s name was written in mahogany on a pretty fancy sign above the doorway. The discreetness of the exterior was a stylistic choice, though, not a necessary one; prostitution has always been legal in Equestria, though it's been frowned upon for as long as I can remember. The bouncer nodded as I walked in. I'm one of Hard Cider's closest buds, so he gave me a lifetime free membership here, which covers the fee I'd normally pay at the door. Despite the frequency of my visits, though, I don't think Hard Cider is losing any money off me. I usually buy a healthy, or rather, unhealthy amount of drinks.
I opened the door, and went down the stairs. Here's a fun fact: my dad died right here. It wasn't anything violent, he just drank too much and fell down these stairs. I was only barely old enough to run the shop. As strange as the codger could be sometimes, I cared for him, and it really hurt when I heard the news. But, I've learned to put the past behind me. The stairs didn't actively try to murder him, anyways. They're pretty swanky carpeted ones, too. They probably have never had a bad thought in their lives. Or any thoughts, for that matter.
I arrived at the bottom of the steps, and I was once again taken aback just by the sheer length of the space. The bar itself already was of a pretty considerable size, and the space around it could already be considered a complete establishment. Instead though, it continued on to a dining area. A couple of booths were on each wall, their fake leather reflecting the light from the overhanging lamps. A scarred wooden table lay in the centre of each. Past that, the hardwood flooring suddenly changed into a plush carpet, marking the beginning of the stage area. An arc of about forty velour seats surrounded the wooden stage, a silver pole standing in the centre of it. Crimson curtains covered the brick wall behind it.
Hard Cider waved at me from the bar, snapping me out of my reverie. He's a distant relative of the Element of Honesty, though he's not the most respected member of the Apples. That's what you get for running what is essentially a whorehouse. A few of the regulars were already seated at the bar, and one of the strippers was poledancing in the back to what I must say was a pretty sizable crowd of stallions. Of all the places on Soresaddle Street, this "gentlecolt's club" really was one of the only shops where business was booming.
Hard Cider's tawny coat shone under the warm glow of the overhanging lights. He brushed some of his dark brown mane out of his blue eyes with a hoof. "What'll it be, Sly?" he asked.
"Just the usual Applejack Daniel's No. 7, Cide," I responded. If you're wondering, that's actually not named after the Element of Honesty; rather, a relative of hers.
As Cide went to get the bottle, the pegasus beside me turned her head towards me. She was also one of the regulars, as well as one of the only females that ever came back a second time.
She looked me over with her ragged eyes before speaking in her usual raspy voice. "So, how's the Mareborough these days, Sly?" She took a sip of her martini as she finished her question.
"Could be doing better," I replied. I assessed her with a glance. Her cyan coat looked like she hadn't washed in at least a week, and her multicoloured hair was dull and flat. Rainbow Dash was not the mare she used to be.
If you're wondering how she got like this, it is a story. Only about a year after she and the other five Elements defeated Discord, the Wonderbolts came to her and asked if she wanted to join their training camp. Because this was Rainbow Dash's dream, she quickly accepted, only stopping to say quick goodbyes to her friends. RD being RD, she got through camp in only a year, one of the fastest times of any Wonderbolt. Then, for another year, she was one of them. Soaring through the skies at high speeds, living it up at all the big shows, and basically doing everything she ever wanted to do.
Then, it all came crashing down when she was found in bed one morning with Spitfire. For professional reasons, in-team relationships were strictly forbidden. Spitfire was lucky; because her name and face were displayed on t-shirts, coffee mugs, stickers, and any other item the Wonderbolts thought would turn a profit, she was spared serious punishment. Rainbow was not so lucky. She was thrown out like last week's trash, and her name was smeared all over the tabloids and gossip rags. You'd think someone who's saved the world twice would get more respect.
Rainbow returned to Ponyville, and tried to get back to her normal life. It just wasn't the same, though. She had fallen from such a lofty plateau that she couldn't stand being on the bottom rung again. Both now and before, ponies would look at her with a disbelieving look on their faces, and point out to their friends that this mare was in fact Rainbow Dash. But not too long ago, they'd do it with wonder in their eyes, and they'd usually ask for an autograph afterwards. Now, though, they did it with tinges of worry, and just pure astonishment at how haggard Rainbow had become so quickly after her return. Even Rainbow's friends couldn't really clear the dark cloud hanging over her. Eventually, she turned to drink, and found Soresaddle Street. I had felt sorry for her, as anyone who lived in Ponyville probably did. She could barely even keep her job on the weather team. We became friends when I saw her at the bar a third night in a row, just basically drinking herself to death. I had intended to only go over and tell her not to drink so much, but I guess we somehow clicked, and I didn't even need to say anything in the end; she was too pleased to have someone to talk to to remember drinking.
When Rainbow Dash was happy, she really was a thrill to talk to. I was glad that I had finally found someone to talk to at the club, since Hard Cider was always too busy serving drinks. What happened to her still sucks, though. From what she's told me, it sounds like she could've been the captain of the Wonderbolts, or something.
"Heh, you could be doing better? Join the club," said Rainbow, snapping me out of my reverie.
I sat down beside her. Even though Rainbow has gotten a bit better since she first came back, her days are still not going very well. Every other day, something happens at her job, and on the off days, suddenly a new problem comes up, one that usually involves the bits she does not have. "What happened today?" I asked.
She swirled her martini around. "The usual. Cloudkicker was fed up with my 'antics', and he shouted at me for like, five minutes. That's nothing special though. What's eating you?"
I groaned. "Doctor Whooves just quit."
"He did?! B-but why?!" Rainbow Dash gawked. I've always described Whooves a great employee, and a good friend, too. We've always been on good terms. After I befriended Rainbow Dash, Whooves and her started hanging out at the bar, too, and Rainbow knew him almost as well as I did. I suppose he neglected to tell her about his little "plan", though.
I rolled my eyes. "I dunno, he has some crazy scheme; thinks he can make money selling relationship tips to stallions."
"Psh, he'll never make anything. I know him. I mean, really, I don't think Berry Punch should even count."
"I know, he's really full of himself this time. He's convinced he'll be famous, or something. Heh, that'll be the day."
"Sure will be. Hey, Cide, get me another martini!"
We both shot the breeze for a while after that, both of us downing a few too many drinks. Before I knew it, we were both cajoling the stripper with the rest of the raucous crowd.
"Take it off!" slurred Rainbow Dash, swinging an empty martini glass. I recognized the stripper as Lola, one of Hard Cider's best. She had a dark red coat and a magenta mane. Her cutie mark was a pony just like her pole-dancing, though it was partially obscured by her lacy underwear. You could always tell a real professional from a fake by their cutie mark. All of Cider's regulars were the real thing with genuine "tramp stamps", as stripping cutie marks were sometimes called. Cider sometimes gave non-pros a chance on Amateur Night, but as you'd expect, most of them were nowhere near as good as the pole-dancers who had this "art form" as their special talent.
Lola stood up against the pole, her body facing the audience. She swayed her hips from side to side as she started to tease her panties off. "My session is almost at an end, colts and fillies. Anyone wanna buy me for a night?"
A coffee-coloured stallion with a crazed look in his eyes barged past me, knocking me into another patron. "HELL YES!" he screamed as he slammed a bag of bits down on the stage, his cheeks as rosy as Lola's coat. Lola kicked the bag up into her mouth, judging its weight. "Feels good," she said, her voice filled with (presumably fake) lust. She gracefully hopped off the stage and led the drunk stallion into the back room. I've always liked how the room has a sign of a knife piercing an apple core above the doorway. Whether Hard Cider had realized the sexual part of his club's name when he opened it was debatable, but he sure was taking full advantage of it now.
"Oh come on, you call that a striptease! That could've been shown to fillies! Refund! Refund!" shouted Rainbow Dash as she angrily slammed a hoof against the stage. She could be a pretty rowdy drunk. Though, she couldn't really ask for a refund, considering she'd never paid the stripper.
Lola had been...exciting, but I definitely wasn't done for the night. I still had a lot left in me. I felt like getting smashed tonight, so I could drown my sorrows of the thought of never getting another night off in good old hard liquor. So, it was back to the bar for a bit for me and RD, downing a few more drinks. At this point, as you might expect, everything started to get a little fuzzy. I could sort of remember Card Shark and Aces High, the local poker pros, asking us if we wanted to play a game with them. Even in our state, I think we could pretty easily figure out we weren't gonna do well. There wasn't much entertainment left besides poker, though, as most of the patrons had left by this time. I had intended to spend all my bits when I came here tonight, and since I couldn't drink another drop of alcohol, for some reason I felt I should spend it on getting my ass whooped in a card game instead. Luckily for me, RD felt the same way, so at least we could take our fall together.
Small pot poker then commenced, with Hard Cider dealing the cards. RD was a pretty good player when sober, and I could hold my own when sober as well, but we both just sucked in our drunken states. We must've been wearing anti-poker faces. In contrast, Card Shark and Aces High didn't touch a drop, and they played their absolute best. Not sure why they really cared about annihilating two ponies who were almost in comas, and for only 20 bits each, but we let them.
Hard Cider finally bucked us out somewhere between 2 and 3 in the morning. RD and I had to support each other to even get across the street to my shop. I have no idea how she got herself home; hopefully Card Shark and Aces High were more sympathetic in real life than in poker.
I hobbled upstairs and collapsed onto my mattress. I was asleep in 10 seconds flat.
-----------------------------------------------------
"Ugh, my head..."
I rolled off the bed and crawled over to the stairs. My head felt like a freight train had just crashed into it. After nearly falling down said stairs, I got into my bathroom, and I barfed for about 20 minutes. That's definitely the least enjoyable part of getting hammered.
I walked over to the counter, which was luckily still shrouded in darkness. I reached into one of the bottom drawers, and pulled out the old HELP WANTED poster. Haven't put this up in a couple of years.
I walked outside--AAH! THE SUN! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!--and ran back inside. Okay, lets try this again...
I shielded my eyes, and walked outside. I put up the yellow poster, with its bold 48-point letters. It made the shop look even more tacky, if that was even possible. Hopefully, I could soon take that thing down.
One of the more prominent things on the counter was a small TV. It used to be upstairs, where the computer is now, but now I just watched it whenever customers weren't coming in, and used it as an expensive clock. I popped a cigarette in my mouth, and turned the TV on, noting that it was a few minutes shy of noon, so it was just about time to open the store. I forced myself to get up and turn the "CLOSED" sign around.
I sat back down at the counter, and began to channel surf. Time for probably the first of many monotonous days staring at a screen and wasting away.
---------------------------------------------------------------
"B."
"Two B's."
The lovely Vivid White touched her hoof to the board twice, revealing the two letters."B--BS AND C-NTS", the board now said. The category was "MOVIE".
"BOOBS AND CUNTS!" I shouted, pointing a hoof at a contestant. "SAY IT!" Wheel of Fortune was not my favourite show. I couldn't care less for word puzzles, but this TV only got five channels, and if I had to watch this crap, I was gonna enjoy it.
The competitors this lovely afternoon were: a fat plumber from Manehattan, a gardener from Ponyville (who I didn't know), and a stuck-up fashion designer from Trottingham, who had just announced her letter of choice.
Pony Sajak turned back towards the stuck-up mare. "Okay, Royal, would you like to spin or solve?"
Royal re-adjusted her glasses, and gulped. "I'd like to solve."
"Okay, what's the answer?" replied Sajak.
Even from where the camera was you could see a bead of sweat roll down her cheek. Oh my god, is she going to actually say it?!
"*BEEP* AND *BEEP*"
DAMN YOU, FAMILY-FRIENDLY RERUNS! TAKING AWAY ALL MY ENJOYMENT!
Pony Sajak just stood there with his mouth hanging open. One of his eyes occasionally twitched. Vivid White and the other contestants looked equally shocked. Royal still looked snooty as ever, as she had once again closed her eyes, and turned her nose up. She patiently waited to see if her answer was right, but there was only awkward silence for a few seconds.
Finally, Sajak pushed his jaw back into place with a hoof. "Um...that's not right," he said nervously. "Uh...sorry to all the families at home who had to hear that." BUZZ.
Well, now what else could it be? Play passed to the gardener, who quickly announced she'd like to solve.
"BURBS AND CENTS," she said cheerfully. What kind of a movie name is that?!
"Yes, that's it! Great movie about buying houses in the suburbs, I might add," said Sajak, trying to put the whole situation behind them.
I grabbed the TV with my hooves, and shook it like a madman. Some ponies are rowdy when they're drunk, but it's the morning after that brings out my inner beast.
"AWW, COME ON!" I yelled. "ROYAL'S ANSWER WAS WAY BETTER, YOU FUCKE--"
Only then did I realize that the door had opened. A cerulean unicorn mare stared wide-eyed at me in my disheveled state. Great, I just blew my first sale of the day. Well, no hope in salvaging it now.
"What'll it be, miss? Dawn of the Dick? Masturbator Salvation? James Bondage: Goldfinger? Give it to me."
The unicorn looked around nervously, and bit her lip. "No, uh...sir. I'm looking for a...job."
Don't say "hoof or blow". Don't say "hoof or blow". Don't say "hoof or blow".
"Hoof o--I mean, hoof over your resume, and we'll see about it."
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hydra-on-hydra DVD?.....I'll take one of those.
Awesome in a nutshell
Don't say "hand or blow". Don't say "hand or blow".  Don't say "hand or blow".
What's a hand?
I really like how he still said "hand" at the end.
But seriously, is this Lyra preoccupied with humans or was that supposed so be "hoof"? (I make this mistake all the time myself, have to admit I'm feeling a bit of schadenfraude coming on pointing it out to somebody else.
)
There's also some back-and-forth with the past and present tense, as well as a few minor other items to nitpick at, but all in all I really like your style so far! Will be keeping an eye on this one.
Okay, that last section with wheel of fortune and the "hoof or blow" gag made me chuckle. Then, the more I thought about it, the funnier it got. I can't stop laughing. It hurts. Despite the rather... interesting subject/premise of the story, this is pretty damn funny, clever and well written no less!
Other then my inner fan being kinda miffed at what happened to poor Rainbow (seriously, good lord is that ever one wretchedly depressing fall from grace) this was an engaging story that certainly can peak the reader's interests. The mature humor is almost refreshing in a fan base focused on magical pastel colored candy equines frolicking in saccharine magic horse utopia powered by friendship. Them baby ponies gotta get made somehow!
Second favorite gag? THe image of Big Mac skipping out of the store with the little brown paper bag in his mouth, all smiles.
Vivid White touched her "what" to the screen?
xD Might I recommend a ctrl+f "hand" before you publish?
But that's no biggie. Nice story so far
180200 181371 180313 He fixed it.
How do pony strippers work, anyway?
"Hoof or blow"
"no i mean"
Lyra then walked out the store
"well that sucked"
THE END
Masturbator Salvation
oh god I cant breathe
184174
They work in magical and mysterious ways...
Also sexy ones
Well this was interesting. At first I though oh no not MLP XXX. This will be so dirty and wrong. I like to avoid mature fan fic but equestria daily had on there site so I'm guessing why not. I'm hoping this doesn't turn something I might regret latter.
I'll say this first; I am not trying to advertise for my account, in fact, I'm trying to entertain you. So please come check out my channel.
-----------------------------------------
Great write, I'll keep track.
"What'll it be, miss? Dawn of the Dick? Masturbator Salvation? James Bondage: Goldfinger? Lay it on me."
Cannot stop laughing!!
This makes me want to put on my best coat and top hat, have someone drive me to a place with a French name, and daintily consume wines and cheeses before launching into an eloquent critique of a high-profile art film and seducing a foreign princess. Basically, the more high-society I am, the further away I'll be from this story.
And yet, like an ancient fungus in the soles of a pair of forgotten running shoes, I find this particular tale growing on me. It's by no means my kind of humor, but having personally booped you on the nose I feel a little obliged to continue. I can already feel the words boring their way through my brain, and may Celestia forgive me for enjoying every minute of it.
Lol this is so messed up. I kinda feel bad for RD I'm sure spitfire had as much to do with it as she did.
Also what does it mean to shoot the breeze?
Okay, I'll admit it: This is so much more engaging now. I actually had to keep from laughing as I read it aloud, and failed several times. I can just see that coffee colored stallion's eyes awkwardly bulging in a 1950s catoon-y fashion, where one eye is like, three times larger than the other. Makes that 'crazed' look all the more enjoyable, especially when the mental image just jumps you like that.
180200
I see that the "hands" have been fixed. But I still don't think there are any "boobs" in Equestria.
Stripping cutie marks
Stripping cutie marks
Stripping cutie marks
Seriously? Don't you children get those during their childhood?
I feel the need to reiterate this:
Stripping cutie marks.
Now dancing cutie marks getting tunred to sensual dancing? Sure. Ponies seeing clothes as erotic. Sure!
Stripping cutie marks?
What? is the Ursa Lolicon Minoris a PE teacher in your equestria?
encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQOQvEULTbDc9JIajQNSjAFHwYylS56-zb4RV9WN8w58NWghQM0sMDEeeNq
317041 "And yet, like an ancient fungus in the soles of a pair of forgotten running shoes,"
You need an award for that simile.
As for you, ElMikkino, as these poor eyes read your username, fabulous story. It's humorous, characterization is done well, and you even speared "Wheel of Fortune." This is hysterical.
*gets to "shady fuck"*
Fukken' saved.
"Don't say "hoof or blow". Don't say "hoof or blow". Don't say "hoof or blow".
images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20110806215117/mlp/images/f/f9/RainbowDash_LaughterTears.png
What is this I don't even...
And why is it so funny?
I shall read on...
Omg great story so far truly the life of a pornshop clerk
DAMN YOU, FAMILY-FRIENDLY RERUNS! TAKING AWAY ALL MY ENJOYMENT!
Oh hey you just wrote my reaction to almost every TV Show in America
This is surprisingly stark, and very very dark on many levels. It's not really something that gets talked about a lot for MLP. I hope there's more that keeps it involved with the show, however. I hate for such good writing to make me sit and wonder "why isn't this story about people instead of ponies?" I sometimes wonder that when the main character is an OC interacting with mostly OC's.
That and with Rainbow Dash's life tanking. Pretty brutal, I gotta say. But with her potent forwardness in life I can see her seducing a fellow Wonderbolt no problem. Spitfire's punishment wasn't really explained, but I can't imagine what sort of skeletons are hiding in RD's closet now. Then again, this story isn't about here.
...and who DOES name their foal "Sly Clop"? Good lord, what his mother must've thought! I'm reading this story with the same morbid fascination that one gets when you look at a wreck on the highway. You don't wanna look, you're not supposed to stare, but you can't help it. It's like talking to the Amish about sex: "That's positively sinful! ...tell me more." Freaking gossipy shakers...
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Well, pole dancing IS a dance form. Maybe they got their cutie mark from non-erotic pole dancing and decided to become strippers?
Or maybe they got their cutie mark when they became adults, who knows?
Dude like wtf i love this already