Levelling Up

Chapters

Lock Your Door
B is for Button, B is for Belle, B is for Betrayal
Take Me Home
It's Back On

Lock Your Door

"Jeez, are you ever going to upgrade that outdated system?" Button Mash sneered, a cocky, slappable grin ever-present on his face.

On some days you hated him. On others, you simply disliked him, and this was currently the latter, so you chose to tune him out. "It's fine as is, dude. Not all of us need the latest, state of the art rig, and mine runs what I need it to perfectly. Will you shut it?" You swivelled in your desk chair to face him fully, unable to resist the temptation. "And get out of my room, will ya? I put a lock on this door for a reason, man."

"Well, you weren't using it, so if you wanna keep me out, start remembering," Button snickered, ignoring your instructions. Instead, he walked further into your messy room and planted himself on the bed. He groaned as he leaned back, making a show of just how much he was enjoying invading your private and personal space.

"See, for someone who complains so much about my crappy rig, you seem to absolutely adore my bed. Wanna trade?" Felt nice to have something over him for once, even if it was an incredibly small victory.

"...huh?" Button replied, zoned out. You could hardly blame him, that bed was fucking comfy. He shook his head as if remembering something important; a shit-eating grin covered his face. "Oh... you thought I was talking about your PC? Nah, I meant that chick you've been hanging around with. How old is she... twenty-two? Honestly, you could be doing better. I'm banging an eighteen year old, dude, with twice the rack and twice the cash. Sort your shit out, eh?" Just when you thought it was over, he shrugged at you. "I mean, don't expect my success, but at least try not to be a total loser?"

Okay, that was it. You got up and aimed a kick at his shin, but missed by a narrow breadth as he pulled his leg out of the way just in time. The asshole was faster than you, just as he always seemed to be a tad better at almost everything. "Look, not everyone's an ostentatious cock like you," you growled, yanking at the bed sheets and beginning to rip them off of the bed. It was a bitch having to unmake your own bed like this, and it basically meant Button won, but the easiest way to get rid of him was to make him as uncomfortable as possible. "I happen to like Sweetie, even if she's a few years older than me. What do you care, anyways? It ain't a freaking contest or anything, is it?"

"I mean, I'm just looking out for you, little bro!" Button chuckled, playing tug of war with the sheets as you continued to yank them away. Little bro was nothing to do with age, unfortunately, but Button liked to make a point of the fact that he was an entire inch taller than you. It must have been the dick on his head. "I don't wanna see you falling too far behind, and looking even more pathetic in comparison to me than you already do. Would you rather I just left you to fuck up at your leisure? 'Cause if that's the case I'll wash my hands of you, sure thing."

You resisted the urge to scream with a clamping lip bite. He came out with bullshit like that all the damn time, but never followed through on any of it, otherwise he might have finally left you alone by now.

But no, there he was, laying on your fucking bed, insulting the girl you were seeing, interrupting your day... you picked up the mattress with as much force as you could muster, finally sending him tumbling off of the bed and landing on his ass. His sharp drop was cushioned by your thick, forgiving carpet.

You wished the floor was made of solid brick.

"Alright, alright, no need to throw a bitch fit. I'll leave," Button laughed, though you couldn’t help but notice that he was rubbing at his tail as he got up, as if you'd bruised him just a little. You hoped it hurt him to sit down for a week—he deserved it. "Goddess, it's clear that you're not a part of this family, not really, else you wouldn't act like such a freaking tard all the damn time. Anyways, I'm gone. Gonna head to Sugarcube, see if I can't pick up another side bitch. Try not to spazz out any more while I'm out, 'kay dude?"

"Will you quit with your disgusting crap and just fucking leave already?" Honestly, you wished to every godly entity you knew of that you could find a way to get away with punching him in the mouth, but his mom, your mom, she'd never let you live it down. That was the one thing that had stopped you from going into his bedroom on one of many nights and strangling him.

Button threw his hands up, innocent grin on his face. "Alright, I'm going. Lock your door in future, dude." And with that, he turned, and you heard his footsteps start to recede, along with the migraine that was his presence.

You'd just about managed to forget he was ever there when you heard him call out 'by the way, borrowing your jacket! Thanks!'. Of course, he said this in a bit more of a chipper tone. He didn't want your mom hearing him being rude, after all.

Creamy Heart had no clue that he was such a cock to you, or half of an idea of what he got up to outside of her supervision, the kind of man he'd turned into. You were no angel yourself, but he was something else entirely. You wished you could tell her, that you could get him kicked out or at least straightened out, but for how much you hated him, you and Button Mash had a code: no snitching. After all, he'd caught you doing some pretty... strange things when you were younger, things that could've got you kicked out of your adoptive home without a chance of returning.

But you didn't want to dwell on that. Still, that experience had been enough that you wanted to get out for a while too—with no jacket, it seemed. You walked out of the bedroom and through the living room into the kitchen, fixing yourself a glass of water and considering your options. You couldn't go to Sugarcube Corner without bumping into that dickhead again, and you doubted you could see Sweetie right now without thinking about the shitty things he'd said and getting mad, so you decided you'd take a day to yourself. Go for a walk, maybe take the train up to Canterlot and see some sights.

Your train of thought was interrupted by Creamy Heart walking into the kitchen, giving you a short wave and proceeding to open the fridge and pull out some sandwich bits. "You want one, honey?" she asked, turning to face you as you shook your head no.

"I'll eat out," you returned, but your breath came rushed. You'd been a part of this family since you were only twelve, but for the last eight years, it'd never been lost on you just how attractive your adoptive mother was. You couldn't talk to anypony about it, and especially not Button Mash, but it occurred to you all the same every time you saw her, especially when she was dressed like she was now.

Creamy had a youthful complexion that made her look half her age, as well as a stunning body, her most prominent twin features currently straining against a red and black chequered crop top as she leaned over to put everything down. As if that wasn't bad enough, she proceeded to grab a small plate from the lowest cabinet in the room, legs shuffling back and forth as a delectable hum lilted from the base of her throat, her locks falling around her shoulders and down over her exposed cleavage as the small of her back arched.

Her leggings hugged her form and left very little to the imagination, to the point that you could scarcely handle looking, even if it was impossible not to. Sometimes, you wondered if your mom knew that, knew just what she was doing to you every time she chose to move so slowly and gracefully that it could easily have been called deliberate.

Once she'd finally grabbed the plate she needed, taking way too long to do so, she snapped up, causing her whole body to jiggle in place. There was a little bit of weight on her, just as much as you'd expect on a MILF of her calibre, but the most notable bounce came from her hefty breasts, which threatened to burst out of her half-buttoned top. Someone was clearly dressed for the summer, even in spring, and she was determined to make sure you were well and truly sprung.

Something she achieved all too often, which had led to hiding more hard-ons than you cared to admit over the years. She stood there, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you were already growing stiff, humming that cute little tune to herself as she began to butter bread. Hell, only she could look hot whilst making a sandwich, surely.

"I-I think I'm gonna head out, mom. I'll try not to be gone for too long." You just needed to leave. Get out while you could, before she noticed your steadily growing erection. All of her flaunting, the swish and sway of her hips... could you even be blamed? Hell, it wasn't like she was your biological mother, so maybe you could get away with...

Stop thinking like that! Just down your glass and leave, damn it.

Just as you went to find safety, Creamy Heart turned and looked you up and down with curious, wide eyes before sauntering over and pulling you into a sudden embrace. You'd always noted that she hugged you for longer than she did Button, but never acted as if you were her favourite. "Make sure you don't get into too much trouble, hmm?" She breathed into your ear as she pulled you tighter against her, a surprisingly strong grip mixing with the feeling of her soft, pillow-like breasts against your chest. You could scarcely take the tension, the fact there was only a small measure of fabric separating the pair of you.

If she knew what she was doing right then, then she just might have been evil. "I-I'll behave, yeah." That cock of yours was only swelling with every second of contact, and she was pulling you closer by the moment! Surely she wouldn't keep this up much longer, surely if you angled yourself right...

No, it was no use. You were almost certain your hardness had brushed against the slightly shorter mare's stomach for just a moment there. While you waited for your fate, while your mind measured the two distinct possibilities going forwards, a slap or a punch, something utterly unexpected happened: she pulled back from you, grinning like she had when you were thirteen and she caught you with your lights on at 3am. "Shouldn't you be saving that virility for younger mares?"

It took you a moment to catch her meaning—maybe she'd used a tricky word just to tease you some more. Either way, the more she acknowledged your predicament, the more embarrassed you felt! "Err, I..." This was quite certainly one of those instances in which you wanted to be shot and then have your remains zipped up. What the hell were you meant to say to this, to think?! "Mom, I..."

She was biting her lip, toying with it like she was toying with you, dragging her teeth back over the bottom and playing with the soft, sensitive flesh in a way that you only wished you could emulate. "Relax, baby, it's natural..." Creamy Heart pushed her shoulders out left and right, looking down as she did so, admiring herself. "If anything, I'm awfully flattered... but as much as the notion intrigues me..."

It... it intrigued her?! Had she thought about this before now? You stood there in utter catatonia, wondering if you should be leaping and shouting for joy or if you were simply dreaming. Hell, part of you hoped you were dreaming if only so you could do whatever you wanted, but an equal part of you imagined the ramifications of being caught in this dream by Princess Luna. Your throat was dry as you tried to stammer out a response, but all you could do was watch your mom's lips as more words finally greeted your ears.

"You're not just pent up, are you, sweetheart?" She bore a concerned frown, the type you might imagine seeing on a mother worried you weren't eating your vegetables properly. "I know you're seeing that lovely Sweetie Belle. I know her sister, gorgeous mare..." Your mom's eyes went straight through you for a moment, as if she was bearing witness to an entirely different scene, but she soon snapped out of it. "The point is, you have a beautiful mare in your life already. And as much as I'd love to delve further into the root and cause of these oedipal emotions... isn't she enough for you?"

You honestly couldn't believe you were having this conversation right now. Your entire body was rigid, not just your cock, which was painfully pushing against the tightness of your jeans as blood continued to rush to it in a non-stop circuital flow. "Of course she is..." you stammered, voice clammy, eyes unable to meet her piercing gaze, her sapphire blue eyes that seemed to shine with wonder. "I just..."

"You what?" she pressed, inching forwards, almost looking as if she might push against you again. Her hands hadn't left your shoulders this entire time, and you were painfully aware of it, each second of contact only prolonging your torment. "Has Sweetie not been putting out for you, honey?" Her voice, which was usually delicate, came out in a husky, predatory purr, one that seemed to stoke in her stomach and rise with her breath, only pushing out her chest that bit more. You wanted to bury your face between those tits so desperately, but you wouldn't dare move an inch.

"N-no! I mean, yes..." you shook your head as hard as you could without inducing vertigo. "I mean, she has... once or twice, but we're taking things slow..." It was a lie, and you could only hope she wouldn't see through it. You closed your eyes, steeling yourself, inching one open to see the voluptuous queen of a mother you'd been both gifted and cursed with tittering in amusement. "This is pretty awkward for me to talk about..."

"Who else are you going to discuss things like this with?" Creamy asked, licking around her lips between breaths, so full and enchanting and now lathered with the faintest shine of her spittle. "Your brother? No, he wouldn't know what to tell you. I'm an experienced mare... it's only natural that you'd take such things to me, isn't it?"

You almost blurted something out for a moment there, but just about managed to keep it contained. The no snitch code was still in effect, even now, and Creamy could carry on thinking her other son was a perfect angel that had never laid a mare in his life, if that's what she truly imagined. "I... guess, but what's this got to do with what just happened?"

Creamy Heart raised an eyebrow at you, and you were transported to every other time you'd ever felt like a silly kid in need of a life lesson. "Darling, if you felt fulfilled with Sweetie Belle, then would I be feeling what I just did pressing against my belly?"

She had a fucking good point there. Or at least, she would've if it wasn't for the fact that you'd been crushing on your mom for as long as you could possibly remember by this point. She didn't need to know that. Some things were just too awkward to say out loud. "I... I'm sorry about that, but..."

"Shh, shh, shh, don't be sorry..." Mom pressed a finger to your lips, soft and precise with the action, before slowly pulling it away, dragging the bottom one down just a tad with her nail in the process. "Now, go on."

"I..." Come on, it's this or admitting the truth, just lie a little! "I think I might be feeling a little too neglected in that way, if you know what I mean?"

Creamy Heart chuckled, playing with the collar of her crop top as she did so. "You mean horny, baby?"

You had to stop yourself from shuddering. "Yeah... that."

"Say it. You can use grown up words with me." She punctuated the command with what you were sure was a quick wink, only making your predicament worse.

"I've been feeling pretty... horny lately," you reiterated as instructed, barely choking out the operative word. "And I haven't managed to get it on with Sweetie Belle in a couple of months. It's been a little frustrating for me, but I'm dealing with it." And in all honesty, that was at least partially the truth. The two of you were a couple in a sense, even though you'd never officially stated it, but you'd never actually had sex with one another, or done more than vaguely hint at the notion. Hell, half the time you were lucky to get more than a chaste kiss from her.

"Dealing with it, hmm? You mean you're sat in your room all alone jerking off?" Creamy had a very knowing look about her; it made you wonder just how loud you could be at times, and just how thin the walls of your house were.

"I... I might mean something like that, I guess?" Your eyes hit the floor. You felt ashamed to admit it, almost. The whole 'this is your mom' thing had taken a backseat for a moment. Right then, you just felt like a boy that couldn't get laid, no matter how badly you wanted to. How had she done that to you so effortlessly?

Of course, her wide smile, the light and inviting flutter of her lashes, it offered some chance of salvation. Right as you began to reciprocate, as you felt your body begin to move in kind to her advances, she finally released your shoulders, stepping back and nonchalantly beginning to go back to sandwich making, as if the conversation had never been taking place, as if the sexual tension in the air didn't weigh so heavily that you felt as if you could faint under it. "I suggest you talk to Sweetie Belle about your little..." she paused, seeming to reconsider, "well, more than little issue. If the two of you are able to work something out, and it satiates you, then perfect!" And from sweet, caring mom voice to cougar assault in a second, her sultry tones were back on you. "And if not... come find me. We'll see if this is just a 'phase', hmm?"

All you could do was give a stiff, forced nod at that. You didn't know what other option was even feasible. This woman who had raised you, who you for all intents and purposes considered your mother... she was propositioning you! Not only had she not shunned you for your reaction to her, she'd... it begged the question, did she just want to help you out, or did she want you? If that was the case, how long had she felt that way?

You didn't have the bottle to ask, no matter how desperately curious you might have been.

You made your excuses and left, a million questions assaulting your mind as you rushed out of the door and into the unforgiving sun, barely a cloud to be seen in the sky. All of the cloudiness was stuck in your head, after all.

Author's Note

I've got multiple chapters of this wild ride ready to publish, and I can't wait to share them with all of you! If you're enjoying the story and want to see more, remember to rate the story, track it, and feel free to leave a comment!

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B is for Button, B is for Belle, B is for Betrayal

Oh, the mother problem.

It didn't matter what you did to ignore it, the situation had finally cropped up. Part of you felt like it might one day, even if it had mainly been a fantasy all of that time. The fact it was actually potentially happening now? That left variables that made your entire body buzz with static nerves, anticipatory pumps of the heart, and a hard cock that just wouldn't quit.

Good thing no one was around to witness that finally, huh?

You had to find a way to deal. You didn't want to cheat on Sweetie, even if the two of you weren't necessarily proper boyfriend and girlfriend. It'd still be a big betrayal of trust, and you couldn't do it to her. How you'd reacted to your mom, it wasn't out of boredom with Sweetie or a desire to be unfaithful, it was just... you knew it was a deep rooted reaction, an involuntary response that wouldn't simply go away because your conscience said that it should.

Should you talk to Sweetie about this? It felt like something that was too awkward to discuss, but at the same time, you couldn't keep secrets. Not ones like this. She might freak out, she might tell you that you were too weird, or that she didn't trust you anymore, and where would that leave you?

Alone, without her, and with a hot MILF waiting to pick up the pieces, a more lecherous part of your brain sought to remind you...

But no, you couldn't do that. Surely you couldn't, even if you did end up single somewhere down the line, because of this or because of anything else. It wasn't just the whole 'mom' thing that everyone would find insane if they ever knew—even if part of you found that same notion ridiculously hot, to the point that it made you feel as if you were going to take off like a rocket at any given moment—it was Button Mash.

You hated his guts. That really wasn't a big secret. He was crude, he had no respect for anyone, he constantly went out of his way to be a dick to you, and you didn't really owe him anything, now that you thought about it, but he was still family.

He'd been an only child for most of his life before mom decided to adopt you, and while you two might not have gotten along, he'd never asked for you to be in his life. You couldn't just start screwing his mother, no matter the circumstance. That was a betrayal of trust that you didn't feel comfortable stretching to, no matter how much you disliked him.

You kicked at the grass and the twigs as you walked along Ponyville's outskirts, your eyes travelling down a small stream as you looked for a way to take your mind off of things. Some way or another, you were going to have to deal with this, and that meant telling Sweetie Belle what had happened, explaining to your mom that you couldn't do something like that, and keeping your own latent desires in check from now on.

This family didn't need two assholes, after all, and no matter what Button might have done to you in the past, he definitely hadn't done anything to deserve being betrayed like that, by his own brother no less.

You were going to stay out for a while, you were sure. You still had a lot to go over, and didn't want to spend time around other people. You took that train ride to Canterlot after all, walking around the city, listening to the sounds of the cobbles and watching the normal people going about their normal lives with a faint feeling of envy. You ate out, but found you scarcely had an appetite. When you'd gotten to the point that your body ached from exertion and you felt too tired to do much else, you finally began to make your way home.

The train ride was long and boring on the way back, but for the first time that day, you were too worn out to think, and almost grateful for it. You already knew what you had to do anyway, considering it more was only going to drive you up the wall.

Ponyville was more muted in the nighttime. Button loved it, of course, when the only bright lights that were out came from the few clubs and bars that the town had, and he could go out and be a fuckboy with reckless abandon... it wasn't really your style though. Sure, you liked to socialise, but you'd never been one for going to clubs and picking up drunk chicks, or anything like that. It felt cheap, somehow, something that you knew your foster brother wasn't concerned about.

But that didn't stop you from admiring the aesthetics of it all. Ponyville was a weird medium in the way that it had the sleepy, country outskirts of a village, but managed to include certain attractions you might expect to find in a larger town—a lot of tourism had been brought in by Princess Sparkle’s ascension. Despite the lights you'd find in some places, others were a lot more suburban, and therefore dark, and you could see a lot of stars twinkling in the sky, guiding you all the way home.

Part of you was a little jealous of Button. It was late. No doubt he was either out partying, or had already either passed out or scored. For all of his annoying qualities, he knew how to hide them and be charismatic, and you lacked the outward level of confidence he could so easily present. It was weird, growing up, he'd always been the nerd at first, but he seemed determined to show he could be more the more time you spent around him.

You were almost tempted to go out for a little while yourself, but you thought better of it. It wasn't long until you found your way to your door, no light coming from the windows. It was after midnight, you'd been out and about for ages, and the trains had been few and far between, so you made sure to be as quiet as you could on your way in to ensure that you wouldn't wake everyone up.

The first thing you noticed when you got inside was that your jacket was hung up, kind of haphazardly. Button had made it home, then. His door was shut, and there was only quiet on the other side. You imagined he'd done the usual and gotten completely wasted.

You made your way down the corridor, steps faint, and eventually got to your bedroom. Door wasn't locked. You'd forgotten to use your key once again, apparently. You opened it and flicked the light on, squeezing your eyes shut under the sudden blast of luminescence as your pupils adjusted. Once you felt you could weather the harsh light, you finally opened them, getting ready to set about making your bed.

But the moment you looked at it, you found something strange. The bed was made already, albeit a little messily.

That wasn't right. You'd definitely thrown the mattress off when you forced Button Mash out, and Creamy Heart never went into your room. The only solution was Button, but why?

You could scarcely believe it, but as you stood there, staring, a smile crossed your lips. Had he... had he felt guilty for how he acted earlier? Was this a gesture to make up for it? You looked at the crumpled sheets with a quizzical expression, noting a slight smell of something in the air. Couldn't place your finger on it, but that was a mystery for the morning. You opened your window to let the funk out, feeling a little better about yourself as you pulled back the cover, ready to drift off for the night and worry about everything in the morning. Maybe you'd finally have a nice moment with Button Mash, who knew?

Beneath the cover, four things awaited you. They were eyebrow raisers at first, but the more you looked, the more the pieces started to come into play. A pink, frilly top, wholly transparent around the breast area, and a matching thong accompanied a small collar with a heart locket hanging off of it. You knew before looking the the inside was engraved Sweetie's bell because you'd bought the thing for her along with the underwear for Hearts and Hooves day, not that it had ever seen any use.

You could feel your heart sinking as you began to put the pieces together, moisture clinging to the edges of your eyes. Your throat was beginning to close as you spied the last object of the little array under the covers, a note that you'd seen there from the beginning, though had tried just as hard to ignore. You didn't even want to read it; you knew it would be utterly nauseating at best.

Desperate curiosity and a desire to see anything but what you expected transpire won out. Maybe it was something else. Maybe Sweetie had snuck into your locked house somehow to surprise you. Maybe she was waiting in your closet that was too small to fit a foal for all the junk inside. Maybe this was the dream.

You picked up the note, unfolding it, and found the very rough, drunken handwriting of your foster brother awaiting you.

She actually wasn't bad.

Next time, lock your door!

You wanted to scream. To take this note, kick down Button's door, ram it in his mouth and fucking choke him with it. For all you knew, he was sleeping with her in there right now, the cunt. How could he? You couldn't even contemplate it... for all of the horrible things he'd done to you since you'd moved in, you never would've imagined he'd go this far. To do this, to—

Tears didn't come. You were too angry to be upset, too vengeful to see this as anything other than a fault on your part that needed to be rectified. How hadn't you seen this coming?! Button Mash—for all of the times that you tried to imagine he wasn't, for all of the times that you tried to tell yourself he had some redeemable quality—was a complete, unequivocal, and incorrigible shitstain. You'd let him fuck with you for all of these years, you'd refused to put your foot down, and now he'd taken off with Sweetie!

He wouldn't even stay with her either. She was a fuck and chuck to him, and you knew it. Part of you was glad for that, because she wasn't much better in this situation. That trust that you'd concluded not to betray of hers when you were offered something else, something you'd wanted for years up on a platter? What had she done when put in the same position?

She'd gone for it. Of course she fucking had, because you were such a pushover. She'd done it on your fucking bed, too! They both had! And now, even through your near blinding rage, through the tears you made in the note as you bit back a scream with all the force you could muster, you realised this was the reaction he wanted from this. Maybe he hadn't been considering it at the time, you'd like to tell yourself. Just thought it would be funny in some twisted way, but no. There was some 'moral' to this in his fucked up mind, wasn't there? Something about him having told you so, and HER being the one who was unfaithful. If you reacted with anger, he'd say you were spazzing out and use it to back up his argument. That you didn't know what was good for you.

Well, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction this time. He'd gone too far. He'd been going too far for fucking years now, and not once had he seemed as if he was going to rein it in, and now you were at the point where you just couldn't take it anymore.

And so with some deep consideration and a lot of ‘inhale, exhale’, you found calm. Not just calm, you found a fucking huge grin.

Why? It wasn't because you were going to beat him by pretending this didn't affect you. That was only step one. But to work out the rest, to foster this mindset before it fizzled out and you became passive again, to get out of this house before your false placidity snapped and you went and kicked the shit out of him?

You were going to go and find one of those clubs. You needed a drink.

Author's Note

Another chapter coming hot and fresh, still plenty to come! Make sure you're tracking and rating, and lemme know how you're finding the story in the comments!

Take Me Home

It took about three shots of vodka and a tall glass of cider for your plan to start to come to fruition, but it was fucking dastardly. Some four dimensional quantum chess shit. You didn't have all of the angles worked out yet, but you knew what the hell you were doing, and what the end goal of it all was. By the time this was over, your brother was going to learn never to fuck about with you again.

But for now, you needed to stop thinking about revenge. Just for a moment, at least. All of the plotting was beginning to drive you crazy all over again, and it was much, much easier to sit there and lament your loss, rather than racking your brain for various means of dealing with it.

If getting him back would even make things better.

The more you nursed your drink, the more you took in the fun-loving, lively ponies around you—no inhibitions, no visible stress about them—the more you began to feel out of place. You weren’t Button Mash, and you didn’t belong here. You’d have loved to have faked it, to get up and start dancing, get talking to people, have fun… but you simply weren’t like him, and you knew it.

Perhaps you were a little jealous. An image of Sweetie flashed in your mind as you stared down into your fizzy cider glass. The bed, the underwear, her smiling face, his smug grin... perhaps you were very jealous.

And you were seeing them both wherever you looked. Your mind was hellbent on reminding you exactly why you were here, what had led you to this impromptu binge. You’d come all the way here to escape those notions, but they just kept worming their way back in; parasitic, evil thoughts determined to drag you down to the bottom and just keep on pulling.

“You meeting anyone here tonight?” came a voice from the other side of the bar, and you looked up to find it had come from the stallion bartender, who had to shout to be heard. He was taking pity on you after a half hour of solitary moping, and you knew it.

You simply shook your head, and he feigned surprise with a little eyebrow raise. It was nice of him to pretend that you didn’t reek of loser. “This is a pretty friendly place, dude. Why don’t you try and have a little fun?”

“I’ll think about it,” you lied. You sighed into your glass, knowing it’d be so much less destructive to just get up and dance, have a bit of fun, but not being able to will yourself to do it. Every mare you looked at wasn’t Sweetie Belle, and every stallion in the club was just another Button Mash waiting to outdo you.

What a toxic mindset. And it was all their fault, wasn’t it?

You downed the rest of your drink with a sharp exhale on impact. It went down smoothly, more so than it had been when you first walked in, and somewhere in the haze of tipsiness you began to feel the swath of colours around you growing more vibrant, even as the thumping music became a touch more muted against your ears.

And there was a mare looking at you from across the bar. You had to blink a couple of times for the notion to fully register, but it only came with confusion. You could make her out fairly well against the strobe light backdrop, and she wasn’t a loser. Or at least, she didn’t have any of the telltale signs of a loser.

Then why was she looking at you? You shifted your eyes back to your drink after half a second of contact. You hadn’t really had a chance to take her in, but from what you’d caught off of a glimpse, she really was quite attractive. Subtle smile, relaxed posture, shapely curves and for the short time they’d met yours, a striking pair of golden eyes.

And this mare had been looking at you. She must have mistaken you for someone else.

Or hell, it was a long shot, but maybe not. Maybe you didn’t stick out as terribly as you imagined here. Maybe there was something cool and mysterious about the young dude sat at the bar sipping on a drink all alo—okay don’t kid yourself. But maybe you didn’t look like a total dick either.

After a few seconds of contemplation, of ‘oh, fuck, what do I do?’ repeating in your head, you got tired of trying to judge this mare’s looks and interests from the edge of your peripherals and finally turned your head. Maybe she was just trying to read a drinks menu behind you or something.

“Hey!” came her raspy voice, clearly directed towards you. She gave a little wave with the greeting, completely destroying any chance of you pretending you hadn’t heard her and turning back around. You pointed at yourself as if to say ‘me?’. “You gonna sit there sulking all night, or are you gonna get up and dance?”

That wounded your pride a little bit. Sure, you had been sulking, but who was she to point it out? “I’m fine,” you said as cordially as possible. “Just feeling a little worn out from dancing earlier, that’s all.”

The mare curled her long, cyan hair around a finger as she listened to you, suddenly a step closer, elbow against the bar. “That’s bullshit. I’ve been dancing for hours, and I haven’t seen you up there once.” She raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re not gonna have a good time sat there all on your own, you know.”

Why was she on your case so much? You moved to respond, but before the words could leave your lips, she’d finished closing the distance between the two of you.

She looked at you with a cheeky smile. “I’m gonna make this real simple for you. Buy me a drink. My friends left like an hour ago, and we could both do with some company.”

“Something wrong with all the other stallions in here?” You stopped yourself from clawing out your own eyes the moment that slipped out. It sounded way too combative, and you wouldn’t have blamed her for walking away right then and there.

Apparently, it was your lucky day, as she laughed. “Something wrong with me?” She looked herself over as if she was checking for a tumor. Lifted up her top and gave herself a faint sniff. “Nope, I’m all good. So why do you seem so determined to blow me off? I’m not used to rejection, kid.”

“I’m just not used to mares approaching me at a club, that’s all.” It was only half the truth, but the more you thought about it, the more of an idiot you realised you were being. You were literally looking a gift horse in the mouth right now.

“You don’t look like you’re used to being in a club, period.” She giggled, a light and airy sound that heavily contrasted with her tomboyish voice. “But that’s kinda cute, and I’m bored, so count your blessings, huh, kid?”

You felt a faint heat kissing your cheeks. She thought you were cute? Suppose you had at least taken the time to make sure you looked good before you went out, but it was always Button who had been the catch, not you. Then again… maybe you didn’t look so bad today. You ventured a smile, figuring it couldn’t hurt to play along. Maybe it would take your mind off things for a while. “Thanks, you’re kinda cute too.”

“Jeez, you’re bad at this.” She smirked, throwing you a wink before gesturing over the stallion from behind the bar. “I’ll have four of your nastiest, cheapest shots, please.”

He obliged, and in short order, you were throwing back the horrible drinks. She lifted the first of her pair to toast with you, motioning for you to do the same, and after a quick clink, they were both down your neck in succession. Tasted like something between cough medicine and liquorice, but you weren't complaining. Your taste buds were already numbed enough by the vodka from earlier to not care.

“Woo! That’s cheap livin’,” she chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling her stool closer to yours. She leaned on your side, personal space apparently meaning little to her. “Take it a straight-laced guy like you doesn’t come to the club like this if he’s got a mare waiting at home?”

She was half right. Maybe the alcohol hit your brain and you felt cocky, but you shot her a grin. “How do you know I’m straight-laced?”

“Same way I know you’re single.” She shot you a wink before getting you both some refills, and after those were gone? Well, those lips of hers were beginning to look pretty enticing… Huh. That was a thought you hadn’t expected to cross your mind. “What you staring at?”

That definitely broke your reverie. “Uhh, nothing, I was just—”

“Was it these?” she asked, biting her bottom lip, waggling her eyebrows at you as she did so. Before you could answer, she’d bridged the gap between you and planted a small peck on your lips. Beat the aftertaste of cheap shots, no doubt. She tasted distinctly like cherry with a hint of want. “I mean, you could’ve just asked, y’know...”

That… wasn’t what you’d expected. Not whatsoever, but you were hardly at issue with it either. It was quickly dawning on you just how pretty she was, and for some reason you couldn’t quite understand, she liked you. You kissed her back, a little more firmly than she had, but she was definitely still leading with her motions and the subtle manipulations of her body.

The random mare from the club was a good kisser, as far as you could tell. She made cute little hums and sighs between kisses, parting your lips ever so slightly but not making the move to touch tongues—maybe that was too far for her? You closed your eyes, attempting to sink further into the kiss, but in your throbbing head, all you could think of was a completely different mare, one that you’d give anything to either kiss just like this or scream at right now.

And so you became more assertive, almost aggressive with your motions, putting your hands on either side of the mare’s face and pulling her closer, parting her lips and beginning to truly make out with her. You made little attempts to bite at her bottom lip, much like she had to entice you, but the end result was sloppy and anything but adept. Your hands ran over her back, down to her sides and eventually to her hips, while hers were both pressed lightly against your chest, her body leaned back as you took advantage of the height difference between you.

No one there cared what you were doing. They all had their own lives and their own good nights to be having, so what harm was there in you indulging a little? This was meant to take your mind off things, this was—fuck her tongue gives you shivers—what you wanted, surely? To forget?

You weren’t forgetting. No matter how much you forced it, betrayal still permeated your thoughts, and for all of the positives about this mare, she wasn’t the Sweetie you lost, and she wasn’t the Creamy Heart you selfishly, guiltily wanted her to be.

And eventually, she pulled away, giving you a look somewhere between amusement and befuddlement. “You alright, dude?” She had her head tilted to the side, as if she was trying to study you, and it was clear she was trying to get her breath back.

Realising the tone of the moment had suddenly changed, you quickly pulled your hands off of her soft and jean-clad ass. “I’m fine, what are you talking about?” It came out defensive.

“No, you’re not,” the mare argued, apparently seeing straight through you. “One minute you’re just starting to lighten up, the next you’re all over me? It didn’t even feel like you wanted to be kissing me.” The smile dropped for the first time, and you realised how much you wanted to see it back. “Am I, like, annoying you, or something?”

“What?” You shook your head furiously. “No! Of course you aren’t! You’re really cool, I’m glad you came over here.”

That wasn’t enough to placate her. “Then I’m getting mixed signals because?”

“I’ve…” Fuck it, time to come clean. You didn’t want to talk about this right now, and especially not here, to her, but it kinda felt necessary at this point. “I got cheated on tonight. It really fucked me up, and when I saw you coming onto me, I just… reacted. I’m sorry.” You saw the way she stared at you, as if she was disappointed, and you felt compelled to add more. “I honestly think you seem really fun. I’m sorry I haven’t exactly been cool to hang around with, but I’m just in a really bad way right now. I can leave you alone if you want.”

Another kiss, but this time, on your cheek. “I’m sorry you’ve gone through a hard time,” the mare said, and her voice seemed to lose its edge, felt more soft and caring. It was almost a struggle to hear. “I know what it’s like to lose someone and feel like shit. I’ve been fucked over before and it’s a bitch, I know.” Her smile finally returned, calming your heart, and she bapped you on the arm. “But that doesn’t mean you should be out here looking for a rebound!”

“I-I wasn’t, I was just—”

“So if I hadn’t stopped you from carrying on you wouldn’t have fucked me and left the next day, most likely with some fake promise that we’d keep in touch?” She gave you a very knowing look, as if she’d just recited the mantra of the modern stallion.

“...no?” You tried your hardest to assure her you were telling the truth, imploring she listen with wide, attentive eyes. “Of course not. I’m… I’m not like that. At least, I don’t think I am.” It was difficult to be completely sure when you felt like this.

The mare seemed to consider your words for a moment, but eventually nodded. “I hope you’re not, because against my better judgment, I wanna dance with you. Please don’t turn out to be a dick?”

You sighed. Had you been about to do something irredeemably selfish? You gave the mare a smile, a genuine one, and got up to follow her. For the next couple of hours, revenge was the furthest thing from your mind.

“And then… and then when you wooshed across the dance floor like that, waving your arms around like a lunatic?” she giggled, and it was intoxicating. Or maybe that was the copious amounts of alcohol in your system. “You had everyone staring at you, dude. They were probably wondering which asylum you’d escaped from!”

You were laughing with her before you knew it. Dancing had been an incredible amount of fun in the end. She had some good moves, managed to look lively and animated well after she should’ve burned out, and you’d done your best to keep up with her, despite being completely inexperienced and feeling like you could pass out at any moment.

And now you were arm to shoulder with one another as she walked you home. To her place, that was. It was almost 4am when closing came, and she’d offered to let you crash on her sofa. There was a pretty clear age gap between you two, at least five years, and it’d dawned on her before you’d even had to admit that you going home this late and in this state was likely to raise some eyebrows from your parents.

But the most important thing, apart from the generosity of her putting up with you, of her taking you home, was that you actually had a good time with her. It was real, it wasn’t toxic or shitty or anything like that… thoughts weren’t exactly coming easily right now.

When you got back to her place, she made up the couch for you and fetched you a cup of coffee. She took a seat next to you and handed you the cup. “It’s Lyra, by the way. Thought I might as well let you know that, so you know what to call me next time.”

You tried to sober yourself up with the drink, but the words rattling in your head were alien. “Next time?” you eventually repeated.

“You were fun, once you got over yourself and stopped worrying.” Lyra rubbed at her head, softly groaning. “Ah, I think I overdid it a little… I’m gonna get some sleep. You do the same, and we’ll chat in the morning.” She leaned over and gave you a kiss on the cheek before heading to her own room, turning off the light on the way. “Try not to worry too much. Sleep easy, kid.”

And for all that you’d expected the opposite, you actually did. Maybe it was the booze, but you suspected not. With Lyra’s help, you drifted into a calm, contented sleep, the bullshit of the day lost on you, at least for the time being.

"Hey."

You could hear the voice, but you couldn't see it. It sounded groggy and out of place, like it'd rather be anywhere else than here. It was raspy, a little dead. "Mmh?" you eloquently responded, remembering you had eyes that you could indeed open.

"You. Loverboy," came the giggle-groan Lyra, who was repeatedly batting at your arm. "Hey, time to get up, I'm gonna be late for work otherwise."

"Nnghhh..." you really weren't ready for the introduction of light to your bloodshot eyes. You slashed at your surroundings with noodled limbs, attempting to keep the evil entity from burning out your retinas completely. Laziness gripped at you and refused to relinquish its comfy, linen grasp. "Just five more minutes..."

"Last time I told a guy to let himself out, he decided it was time to devour half my fridge. You're leaving when I do."

You looked up to spot her standing above you. She’d ditched the casual clothes from last night, and was in a white shirt and panties, holding a toothbrush that she'd yet to use. She looked pretty adorable, honestly. "Alright, alright..." You heaved your body to the side before making the almighty swing to sitting upright. That had been a herculean task in of itself, seeing straight was another. "Jeez... how much did I drink last night?"

“Enough that you told me about your shitty breakup right after frenching me?” Lyra winked before beginning to brush her teeth, still standing over you.

Remembering it was more of a headache than your actual headache. "Did I mention the part where it was my brother that she slept with, and on my bed?"

Lyra actually looked surprised by that. "Jeesh, dude, thath's cold..." she withdrew the toothbrush, likely aware of how comical she sounded. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"I was planning to get even," you admitted. The hangover didn’t help, either, it kinda robbed you of last night’s bliss.

"That's a bad idea. Be the bigger stallion, try and be happy. Don't let those two dicks drag you down to their level." Lyra pointed at the large apartment the two of you sat in. "I moved in here with a fiance, once upon a time. We only got the place because we knew the two of us could afford it together. When she left, I had to get a second job just to meet rent and stay close enough to work that I could commute..." she then pointed at her still smiling face. "You think I went out and got revenge? Nope! And I'm still a happy mare, taking strangers home and letting them crash on my couch. Be like me, let the hate go."

"...now I can see why I was buying," you all too bluntly stated, though you honestly did feel what she was trying to say. Okay, maybe it wasn't enough to make you forget everything, but she had a point. You had a chance to show you could be a stronger person than Button, that you were more than his bullshit. "I'll think about it. Thanks, Lyra."

"Anytime, little boy," she teased, smearing toothpaste on your cheek with a finger. "You’d better, cause I want you to hit me up again, but only if you can put this shit behind you. Don’t get strung up on it, and don’t go out looking for revenge. I don’t want to be a second choice, or a revenge fuck, or anything like that. But for some reason, I like you. Just, don’t drive yourself crazy with all of this shit. Get your feelings out in the open and be done with it. You can do better than her.”

Maybe better was right there in front of you. Sure, she had her quirks, but this Lyra, this random mare, she seemed to be different to the ponies you'd become used to over the last few years. When the best wisdom you could hope for was coming from the hungover hook-up from the night before that had just left toothpaste mottled in your cheek fur, you had to wonder just where you'd fucked up before now.

You tried to wipe off the clumpy substance with your spittle, but it just got mashed further into your fur. It’d been a while since you’d laughed like this. With someone like Lyra around, maybe that could change. Perhaps you could forget about all of this bullshit and move on, grow a little in the process.

"Thanks for everything," you said, throwing on your clothes as you went, and before long, the two of you were ready to head out of the door. She pulled you into a half-embrace, now fully dressed up in office attire, then gave you a little squeeze.

"Make sure you call me at some point, yeah?"

"Yeah," you affirmed, grinning dumbly as you said it, and the two of you headed out the door and quickly parted ways, walking in opposite directions. You may have looked back and given her a little wave, you weren't ashamed to admit. She may have grinned at you and then given you the finger.

And suddenly, there was less weight on you. Sure, you still had a headache, and you didn't feel as if you'd slept enough, but the bullshit from the night before? It scarcely bothered you right then. You knew that wouldn't be a permanent thing—dwelling on it still caused anger to rise up—but you could surely ignore it long enough to enjoy your day, gain a new perspective on things.

Maybe this big plan wasn't worth it after all. Maybe you would be stooping to his level instead of just getting on with your life. Maybe you could forget about all of it and just take Lyra on a date instead. Preferably not slam shots this time.

No, you hadn't forgotten the whole mom situation. That still needed dealing with. But maybe it was... unhealthy?

Okay, that wasn't a maybe thing. It was definitely an unhealthy thing, and you shouldn't have even been entertaining the thought. Funny how it started to go out of the window the moment an alternative came along, huh? You might have lusted after your foster mother for years, and she might be doing just the same, but you shouldn't do it. Last night had shown you that there was something better for you out there than petty revenge and unhealthy urges, and if you really focussed on improving yourself, ignoring temptation? You could have it.

And that thought led you to smile. The early morning sun might have beaten down on you and made you feel as if you were being melted by a death ray, but you didn't particularly care. That positive mentality you'd just had a taste of, it was enough to sustain you; it served as a barrier against the various annoyances around you.

Walking along the street, finding you way home, you truly felt ready to take on the day.

Author's Note

This chapter was originally around 80% different and 2000 words longer, then Grimm convinced me to change it because the original wasn't as good as it could've been. Hope you like the version you're seeing!

Next chapter out in two days, be ready! Thanks for all the comments, likes, and follows so far! I like all of those things.

ALSO REMEMBER TO JOIN MY DISCORD SERVER BY CLICKING HERE WE LOVE PORN

It's Back On

Then you saw her.

Sweetie Belle didn't even look at you. She walked straight past you, eyes to the floor, but you could see the smudge of her mascara, you could smell the faint scent of shame. If there'd been any doubt in your mind, it'd been confirmed now. And she didn't even have the heart to face you this morning, to make an excuse, to say something. You paused, clearing your throat, and she did the same. You waited for a handful of seconds, seeing if she'd turn around, if she'd put on a brave face, but she faltered. Nothing came of it, and you carried on walking until you were at your door. You didn't have anything to say to her either.

But... but. You could handle it. You'd woken up today with a positive mindset, you knew you had. You could handle this just so long as you kept your head straight, remembered Lyra's words. Sure, your girlfriend had just cheated with you with your fucking foster brother and walked past you if you were a Celestia-damned stranger, but that was fine. You could handle it. You just had to not let it get to you. Not stoop down to their level. Couple of days and you'd be focussing on something else. A few more and it'd lose its sting. Two weeks? You'd forget it ever happened.

Deep breaths. You unclenched your fists out of necessity to open the door. You hadn't even realised you'd balled them up. This wasn't what was meant to happen. You were meant to say what you thought to her. You were doing this wrong! You were bottling things up, getting angry again already. This wasn't what you'd had in mind for today.

You opened the door before ducking inside, leaning against the glass once it was closed and taking a few breaths. You felt wobbly, and you were sure it wasn't the hangover. The mental fortitude you'd acquired was straining already. Part of you wished you'd stayed out longer.

This was going to be okay, you just needed a little more time. Avoid Button Mash. Avoid your mom. Take some sober time to think all of this through, find a healthy outlet. Once you're calm, you'll be able to talk to Sweetie properly about all of this, and get it off your chest. She probably doesn't hate you, even if you're not exactly fond of her right now. She likely didn't have the strength to talk to you today, that's all. You knew you didn't.

You're fine. You can get through this. Just go to your room and sleep off the rest of this hangover. Hell, look, you were becoming your own mother. Did that turn you on? No. This coping stuff was working.

You kicked off your shoes and shuffled up the hallway, thankful to see Button's door closed. Just a few more steps to go...

And there the cunt was, sitting in your fucking room. The room he defiled with her. You needed to stay calm, no matter what he did. You knew that. He greeted with you a smile, gesturing you inside, then pointed over to the torn up shreds of paper on the floor. "See you got my note?" came his snarky, mirthful tone.

You couldn't kill him. Authorities would get involved and you didn't know how to hide a body. You put every iota of willpower you could into relaxing the muscles in your face enough not to snarl. Don't show him how pissed off you are. Keep yourself contained. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"And yet you're still not locking your door," he grinned with a glint of too-perfect teeth.

Yup. Somehow in your rage fuelled rush from the house last night, you'd forgotten that. "You slept with my girlfriend," you stated, rather simply. Figured it was best to put it out in the open, it might help you to keep yourself level and not explode.

"I mean, come on... she wasn't really your girlfriend," Button defended, waving his arms in defence. You simply looked at him, and he decided to add to his statement. Perhaps he was scared you would finally murder him. "Listen, dude, I was doing you a favour."

Something in you broke at that. You couldn't really put words to it, it was something intangible and difficult to describe, but there was definitely some deep rooted facet of your being that heard that and simply turned off. So instead of getting angrier, instead of laughing in disbelief, you tilted your head, hoping to gain a new understanding of the logic of the universe as seen by your illustrious brother. "How exactly were you doing me a favour?" You had to know. You had to know if this was just his way of bullshitting himself out of this, or if somehow, in his twisted mind, he'd actually decided he was justified here.

Button took his finger and circled the room around them. "Look at this shit, man... it's fucked up. She was obviously stringing you along!" Button put on a rather serious face. "I could see it ever since the two of you 'got together', or whatever you wanna call it. She spent your money, took your time up, and hell, if she liked you, would she have gone for me?"

"I..." there were words for what he was saying. A lot of them. Just, a lot of them weren't coming to mind. Mainly because you were trying to keep yourself from foaming or gargling. Or maybe you weren't. Maybe you were finally past even visual representations of your hate.

"She was all over me, man! Didn't give two shits about what you'd have to say about it, even when I tried to talk her down. Hell, it was even her idea to do it in your bed..." He looked at you as if you were a small child in need of some benevolent elucidation. "Isn't it obvious, bro? She was just hanging with you as a way to get to me. Probably saw how high profile I was and realised she needed an in. No wonder she got me so drunk last night..." He patted the bed, the seat next to him, and you sat down. Not due to any desire to be within a mile of him, simply the fact you didn't think you could stay standing much longer. "Yeah, maybe I partially gave in to prove a point, but it was all her, man, I promise. You needed to see that you could do better than her, and if it meant doing this to show you?"

You tried to parse the words coming out of his mouth in real time and failed. It took you a full twenty seconds to come up with a response. "If it meant doing this to show me, it was okay? You're a nice guy 'cause you fucked my girlfriend instead of simply saying to me, 'yo, dude, she made a pass at me'?"

"You needed waking up! You never would've listened, man. Probably would've thought I was bullshitting or something. Listen, dude. She just turned up here completely unannounced with a bunch of booze, and I was already drunk. It was super late already, and... maybe I could've handled all of this better, I'll admit it."

"Wow, that's big of you."

Button smiled and nodded, patting you on the back. "I know. Takes a real man to admit his mistakes, after all. And I hope you'll take from this that you can't just let peeps walk all over you! You're better than that, you're my brother."

He was such a fucking snake that it was near impossible to tell if he meant even a word of this. Well, it would be if you hadn't lived with him for the last eight years, but even so, he could be pretty damn convincing. Convenient to have a heart of gold whenever you felt like. You wondered if he believed a word of his own bullshit.

And then any vestige of hope that you could cope with this was dashed completely by a few more words.

"Okay, you're not really my brother, of course, but if you keep acting like a pushover, that looks bad on me. She's just a stupid little slut, dude. Got what she really wanted and then left. Don't beat yourself up over it. It wasn't all your fault."

It takes about 1400 pounds of torque to break a pony's neck. How much to snap his entire body? You smiled, smiled and nodded. For better or worse, plan was back in motion. "You know what, dude, you're right."

"Listen to me dude, you—really?"

He hadn't been expecting that. Of course he hadn't. He knew he was full of it. "I should've watched out more, stopped being so jealous of you and accepted that you know best for me. I'm honestly grateful you got rid of the skank, now that you've said all of that." You took your anger and channelled it into something else, used it to serve the act. "You know I saw her leaving? She was coming out of here all shame-faced, and she didn't have the guts to say a word to me? What does that tell you?"

The moment you said this, you noticed Button flinch. "You're not planning to talk to her, are you?"

That was interesting, but you couldn't bring it up, not now. "You kidding? I'm done with that bitch. No way I'm even going near her again, not after this. Can't believe she'd try and drive a wedge between us like this." Cause we were best buddies now, of course. Button Mash, the hero, had finally solidified our relationship by driving away the evil harlot Sweetie Belle. He was so fucking narcissistic that he'd likely believe I thought that. Just made this easier.

Of course, he nodded heavily, giving my shoulders a light rub. "I wouldn't bother talking to her dude, yeah. I wouldn't listen to her if she tries to come to you, either. She's clearly a liar as well as a cheat. Just steer well clear, yeah?"

"Of course, dude." You returned the semi-hug, doing your absolute best not to squeeze too hard. "I know we've had our differences in the past, but..." you weathered a sigh. A very fake sigh. "Thanks for looking out for me. I think we can sort things out from now on if I just, y'know, start listening..." you feigned embarrassment. You were fucking devious.

"Hey man, I'm here for ya," the traitor smiled, giving you one more reassuring pat before moving to standing. He was probably wondering how the fuck he'd gotten away with this, what else he could pull now under the guise of friendship. Maybe he planned to turn you into his 'disciple' and get you to slave over him. "You look like shit, by the way. Where'd you get to last night?"

Here was your chance to break out into a smile. "Oh, y'know, a club. Met a nice mare, no big deal."

"Niceee, the rebound!" Before you knew it, Button was slapping you on the arm like some kind of jock. "You score? I mean, you didn't come home until now, so I know you scored." He gave you a smirk. "Best way to get over a mare is to get under another mare, you catch my drift? You're becoming more like me every day, bro. I'm proud."

"Thanks..." Yeah, that's it, let him take the credit. Let him think he's crafting you into a carbon copy of him. He'll love that. "It was pretty good to be able to say 'fuck you' to Sweetie by fucking someone else..." Oh, if only he knew what he had coming. "But yeah, it left me pretty beat. I'm probably just gonna play a couple of games on my crappy PC and vegetate today, know what I mean?"

Button took a look at your system and shrugged. "Oh, your computer ain't that bad, it just isn't as crisp as mine, know what I mean?" Because of course, he didn't give you shit for it at least once a week. "But I'll tell you what, seeing as we're turning over a new leaf and stuff, how about I let you use mine today? Play some games in high res! It'll be better on your hangover, trust me."

You loved that he thought that was his idea. Absolutely adored it. You gave him your best look of confusion. "But hey, man, don't you keep your door locked?"

"From now on, mi casa es su casa," Button generously offered, throwing his arms wide. "It's not like we need the locks... let's not use them anymore! I mean, knock before you come in, cause I could have anyone over..." smile, damnit, smile, "But if I'm out, my room's yours."

Convenient of him to leave the part where he'd been abusing your space for years now. Ah well. "Thanks, man. You out today, seeing as you offered? I kinda assumed so."

"Oh, yeah! I gotta go see someone about something. Nothing exciting, I promise." Sweetie, you were sure. Of course, you didn't press it. "I won't be back for a while, so feel free to chill out, have a good time!" He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, also..." Button walked to his room and then returned, throwing Sweetie's lingerie and collar at you. "Here. Thought you might wanna burn it, or jack off into it or something. Do what you want with it, ain't my business. Anyways, see ya!"

You were about to truly snap there. Fuck off the plan, forget everything, and go completely ballistic. It was tempting. You were clenching your ass so hard in an effort to stay still that you thought you might begin to spasm. You could literally feel your anus birthing the universe. But you managed. You thanked him, he left, and you began to laugh, all for one reason:

What he'd just given you was the one piece of the puzzle you were missing, and the moment you saw it, you had an idea. You'd deal with Sweetie later, but right now, it was time to put everything regarding Button Mash into play.

You waited until he was gone, of course. No use trying to do anything while he was in the house. It didn't take long, and you spent the spare time thinking of Lyra. Would she have condoned any of this? Of course not. Did you feel bad that you were doing it anyway? You looked down at the sexy underwear your now ex had worn whilst fucking your brother.

No. No you did not.

And so once the coast was clear, you left your room and went into Button's. You hadn't seen your mom around, thank fuck. That came later, but right now you had to check a couple of things, make sure you knew exactly what you were doing.

You spent a little bit of time snooping around Button's room, seeing if you could find any extra angles to use against him, anything that might incite a change in the plan, or a way to add to it, but you came up short. There was nothing of true value there, but it was pretty damn clear that he kept everything out in the open. He had a little notebook on his desk filled with names, Sweetie's the latest entry. Next to them all were phone numbers. Sure, he could fuck with Button pretty easily using something like that, but it wouldn't have a lasting impact. He'd just go out and find more girls he didn't care about to screw with.

No, you needed to hit him where it hurt, and all you needed for that was his computer.

Button Mash had become more of a meathead in the last eight years. He'd become fit and sporty, more confident, more of a cunt... a lot of it was about outshining you, and you knew it. He loved to present himself as completely normal, the most regular stallion out there, but you knew better. Somewhere deep inside of him was still the same nerdy degenerate that had resided in him when you'd first met, and that was how you were going to hit him.

He wasn't ashamed of it, either. Kept all of his shit on full display, from the anime-style posters to the borderline porn background image when you loaded up his computer, which as it turned out, wasn't password protected.

How do you fuck with someone who absolutely loves their computers, their games? Delete them all? Install a virus on their PC and let it eat everything? Screw up their ELO on Ponywatch? You had a much better idea, something that could eclipse all of that with ease.

You did end up playing some games, and you did end up relaxing for a little while. You'd even begrudgingly admit that it was a little more enjoyable to play them on an engine as high-powered as his, and that maybe you could do with an upgrade after all, but that wasn't why you were here. You were here for his internet history, in all of its glory.

Once you'd pulled it up, you grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. No digital footprint. You began to make marks of every site he visited. He didn't go incognito, he didn't delete his history, and you weren't surprised. What were you looking for, something to report him to the authorities over? Nah. Even if it was there (which it wasn't), it would still be too simple.

You made a log of absolutely everything over the last month. It was long and painstaking, and you kept a game running in the background so the hours played would continue to go up. You found yourself laughing at some of the sites he used, reeling in unbridled cringe at others, and reluctantly finding you shared a few fetishes with your brother. All valuable information to put down. In an hour, you had a record of every site he visited, when, how often, and what his viewing habits on those sites were. As you'd hoped, they worked almost perfectly with what you had in mind.

Once you were all finished, you logged off. No need to delay any longer, not when there was work to be done. You couldn't be productive on the best days sometimes, but revenge was turning out to be a strangely potent motivator. An irresponsible part of your brain told you that you needed to get pissed off more often.

Now it was time to sort out the second part of the equation, one that had been gifted to you by the oblivious asshole himself. If only he'd known what you were going to do with it.

Something very simple and innocuous. You were just going to put it in the wash. Nothing could come of you doing that, surely?

Well, it'd be interesting to see what happened when your mother came to you with Sweetie Belle's fresh lingerie in hand an hour from now. That's the kind of thing you'd never hold out around her, or even give her a chance to come near, but considering how your last conversation had ended? You felt as if it might be an excellent catalyst to the tipping point you needed, the conversation you had to have.

After all, what better way to broach the topic of sex than thrust the lingerie of the girl you were supposedly sleeping with in your mother's face?

...you thought that sentence over and considered that therapy might be a good choice for you.

But it could wait until you were done. Only thing that mattered right now was the plan, even if it was destructive, even if it would ruin things in the process. Hard to imagine a healthy family dynamic ever existing after you tried to have sex with your foster mother, which you were now completely sure you were going to do, but eh. Normal, functioning families were overrated anyway.

And so you cat burgled your way through the house into the kitchen without being spotted. Apparently, your mom was still in her room. You took the lingerie and put it in the wash alone. Nothing else to hide it or cover it up, you wanted it out in the open. After realising the collar wasn't meant to go in the wash, you decided to leave it on the counter-top above the washing machine. Nice and conspicuous, exactly how you wanted it to be.

And once that was done? Well, Button was going to be out all day, likely still banging Sweetie. You had hours to ensure that by the time he came home, the deed was done in its entirety.

From there, it was like clockwork in your head. You acted as if everything was normal. Fixed yourself some lunch, called out into the other room to ask if your mom wanted any, but she said she wasn't hungry yet. That meant she'd be wandering into the kitchen herself soon enough. Nice and easy.

And so you took your food and headed back to your room. You realised in the midst of eating that you hadn't exactly planned for how you were going to deal with Sweetie Belle yet, but you had some semblance of an idea in the works. You needed to talk to her first, though, or at least find out her version of events somehow. While they were both clearly at blame, Button definitely didn't want you speaking to her for a reason, and you were going to find out what that was.

You didn't play any music, or watch anything, or do anything that would create noise in the otherwise empty and silent home. You wanted to hear when your mom got up, to be prepared. You read a book while you waited, but after an hour and a half had gone by, you began to grow nervous. You'd anticipated things moving along faster than this, and were wondering what was taking so long. The way you'd seen it, the moment Creamy Heart found Sweetie's lingerie in that machine, she'd march right to your room and try for an explanation.

But... no mom knocking on the door. No shout of surprise, nothing of note. You thought you'd heard her moving about a couple of times. The house had fairly thick walls, but you'd left the door open just to listen out. Even when you were sure she'd moved around the house at least twice, nothing came of it. Had she had a change of heart since yesterday? Perhaps decided not to pry? Hell, maybe she didn't even notice the machine running, despite the fact you and Button Mash basically never used it yourselves as she insisted on doing the clothes washes.

You were half-tempted to go out there and look for her. Maybe that's what she expected you to do, find her and explain this. You were beginning to grow tired of guessing at whatever reasoning behind her lack of arrival was, and eventually, lack of response drove you to go out there and look. You walked casually, of course. Didn't want to act as if anything was up.

You went into the living room first, then through there to the adjacent kitchen. No mom in sight, oddly enough. Though, once you stopped to look, you realised something that made your heart leap and your brow lift—the washing machine was completely empty. Mom had taken the contents out and done... something with them. And if she wasn't in here, wasn't in the living room? She was almost certainly in her bedroom. She hadn't gone out, after all, or you'd have heard it.

You didn't go into your mother's room, just as she didn't yours. It was an unwritten rule, one you'd broken a couple of times when you were younger, but once Button Mash caught you jerking off into a pair of her panties from the laundry hamper... well, it was times like that in which you loved the no snitching rule the two of you shared.

Yes, you'd been a pervert when you were younger. Deal with it.

You weren't sure whether you should go to her room and knock. Considering everything you were doing, trying to do, it sounded preposterous that this was the thing you felt was crossing some kind of invisible line, but you were still first and foremost a son, and a respectful one at that. When mom was in her room, she often didn't want to be disturbed, and you tried your best to respect that by giving her her privacy and alone time.

But there was a lot at stake right now. You only had a matter of hours before Button Mash would be home, and then your next opportunity to do something like this would be much smaller, explaining the lingerie that your mom had obviously moved would be harder, and the relevance of what he just did would dwindle so much that your reaction wouldn't have as much impact.

No, unless you wanted to give up on the plan altogether, it had to be now.

And this was the point of no return, you realised. You still had a chance to adhere to Lyra's words, make up some excuse for the lingerie, and forget the whole thing. Once you made the choice, one way or the other, you'd be solidifying your fate.

Would it be one filled with maternal sex and revenge or something entirely more healthy, sane, and boring?

Well, you already knew the answer to that. Some things were worth going to hell for.

And so you took the best breath of confidence that you could. You had to be tough. You couldn't falter. You had to put on your best acting skills, and you had to craft this situation perfectly to meet your endeavours. Also, after so long without a lay, you’d finally get to bust a nut, with some luck.

Felt weird walking further down the hall than usual. Past your room, to the part where the corridor began to curve, and eventually, to your mother's bedroom door. You could hear the faint sounds of movement on the other side, but couldn't pick up on anything specific. This was it. Now or never. Open that door, or forget the whole thing and deal with it like a rational pony would.

knock, knock, knock.

Author's Note

Yeah, that was a funny 'two days', I realise. Sorry about that! Things have been pretty damn difficult for me to keep on top of lately, but I'm determined to get through this story. Let me know what you think of the chapter below!